


Colder Than Winter

by kky_claud



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Comfort, Depression, Disorders, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hate to Love, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Marvel - Freeform, Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, My First AO3 Post, Neurological Disorders, Pain, Panic Attacks, Personality Disorders, Pills, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Psychological Trauma, Psychosis, Reference to Lady Mastermind (X-men), Reference to Longshot (X-Men), Sad, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Summer, Swearing, Updating tags as I go, Very slow burn actually, Wanda Maximoff Gives Good Advice, X-Men References, angsty, did, please bear with me, sad stuff, this is going to be a very long story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 105,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8175881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kky_claud/pseuds/kky_claud
Summary: Summer was a thief. Born into an orphanage, too stupid to get a high school cert and just too fucking unlucky to have ding-dong-ditch parents who did not register her as a human being in the world, she didn't have much of a choice. Well, she did, but she often tried to forget about the days she got her dirty money through drunken men at bars. Bucky Barnes was happily recovering under the care of SHEILD and the Avengers. He still had nightmares, and the littlest things might set him off, but his progress has been remarkable. He was learning that he needed to put himself first, to make himself the main priority. It was hard, seeing that 70 years was seen teaching him the exact opposite.But that was exactly what he did when Summer danced into his life without much of a warning. Cute and feisty with bright eyes hiding a dark secret, Bucky couldn't help developing a crush and so, of course, tried his very best to find reasons to hate her. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Bucky at first mistook her as a honey trap. Well, he supposed that was how secret spies realize they're crushing. ("They stole our Winter Soldier. But we'll make you a better soldier; make you colder than winter.")





	1. Chapter One: Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! This is my very first fan fiction in the MCU fandom, so I hope you guys like it! I'm open to con crit (please be kind, I'm not very good), and comments and kudos are appreciated. I hope you guys will enjoy it, and just for the record, I'm a pretty big Stucky fan, but this fan fiction will be using my OC. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm pretty shit at writing angst and I go overboard sometimes, so my chapters may be awfully long and pointless. Don't be worried to let me know if they are. English isn't my first language, but it might as well be because I'm pretty shit at my supposed first language aka Mandarin. 
> 
> Also, you guys can recommend me what tags would appropriate for this book because I don't really know how to tag. You can help me with the summary too, really. I suck at stuff like that in general.
> 
> Okay, that's all for now. Hugs and kisses all around :)

Through the thin soles of her ragged shoes, Summer could feel each of her steps against the concrete pavement she was madly dashing on. She muscled her way through the pedestrians, pushing them out of the way hastily, while behind her came another shrill scream, “Get that girl! She’s a thief!”

Her brown hair blew against her flushed cheeks as she willed her legs to move faster. Her bag swung against her side as she made a sharp curve into the empty alleyway. Before her, the towering brick wall warned her of the promising dead end, but she only ran faster.

When she got close enough, she hopped onto the dumpster, making a loud clang before leaping towards the pipes that crawled up the brick wall. She could hear the shouts of men and thudding of feet behind her but she didn’t even bother looking back as she climbed up the building skilfully.

“Get back here you little bitch!” One of them shouted. “We’re going to get you!”

“Oh, I’d love to see you try,” She grunted before she pulled herself over the railing and onto the roof. She looked back down at the angry mob of men and memorized their faces. Raising her middle finger promptly, she sent them a smirk. “See you, bitches.”

She felt for her bag once more as a precautionary habit for reassurance before making a dead sprint towards the ledge of the roof. She leaped, inches away from falling off, and soared, from one building to the next, her nimble feet light and her breaths puffed and quick.

The actual city itself was a maze, a concrete jungle of buildings that look like the other.

But once on top?

Summer could reign it just as if the city was hers.

From roof to roof she jumped fearlessly. She had learned from those years of being a rebellious and reckless teen how to tuck her head and bend her knees and roll over when doing these jumps, and then she had further learned how to be quick, nimble and quiet during the years she’d survive as a thief.

At the edge of _Uncle Jim and Auntie Cottie’s Cottage_ , she swung her legs over and lowered herself down onto the fire escape. Breathing deep, she felt her lungs burn as she descended the stairs. There was a loud shout and the sound of glass shattering as she bounded down the last couple of steps.

Looked like Jim and Cottie were at it again. Pity. They made a mean quesadilla and their salsa was amazing. Whatever they had that was going wrong, Summer hoped they worked it out soon. After all, they gave her free tacos at 2 am on Wednesdays when they got too drunk, and won a big sum during their weekly gambles.

Summer pushed her greasy hair out of her eyes as she began her familiar path into the woods. She tiredly pushed her way through low hanging branches, her feet used to the same route she walked each day. She weaved through the tree trunks easily, dodging the holes in the soil like it was second nature.

“Jesus,” She breathed as she rolled her shoulders, feeling the weariness weigh down on her muscles. She winced as she felt the painful tug on her left shoulder. She had been feeling a sore tenseness there for a couple of days now, but it’d go away. At least, she hoped so.

It had to; it wasn’t like Summer could visit a clinic or attend physiotherapy or something. Those things cost more than her entire life.

After trekking through the forest, following the winding roads that were imprinted with her footsteps, she finally came into a small clearing.

She gave the depressing looking hut that sat in the middle of it a fatigued look and let out a deep sigh.

“Home sweet home,” She muttered as she began her way towards it.

It was a shitty thing, what she called her home, it really was, but still. She guessed it was… something, which was better than nothing, may it be shit or not.

Summer had stumbled upon the hut a few years back when she had decided to be adventurous and roam the forest. It was a shitty and pathetic thing, with walls of wood put together by crooked nails, an unhinged door that had collapsed to the inside, and unfinished windows.

It was literally falling apart, but Summer took pity on it, sympathized with the way it resembled her own life, and decided to make it her own.

The corners were covered with the intricate designs of cobwebs, and the layer of dust was terrifying thick, and there had been a secret lair of termites lying around somewhere, and there had been thorny plants growing along the sides.

But it had a roof, a door, four walls…

And then there was the isolation from the world. The idea of just that itself already made it better than the streets.

At least in the forest, the animals just growl and hiss for a show of dominancy.

In the concrete sort of jungle, the animals weren’t so forgiving, weren’t so kind. There, they had evolved. They weren’t scared to lurk out of the shadows, no. They were smarter, understood the world, learned from it, theorized it.

In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word _was_ God. And humans were made with the image of God, by the word _of_ God.

And through the same way humans learned how to destroy the world by using what it was made up of, humans learned the way to kill was through the word.

Intelligence has given men the power of God.

But instead of creating life, they called upon death.

Yes, humans had become smart. Just as their intellect grew, so did their brutality. They began to make weapons and held them unwaveringly; clutching onto their guns loaded with bullets of perceived righteousness, and knives coated with the sharpness of words that pierced the heart the same way fangs pierced the skin.

They sent their children to school, to educate them, when all they did was mould them into miniature versions of themselves, only difference was they perfected them, made them into the ideal image society had presented. They said, ‘the world out there is unfair, kid’, when the reason why the world was cold was because they made it so.

Right. Civilization. That was what they called it.

But no matter how much they educate themselves, how much they claim to have advanced from the wild animals, Summer knew they were no different from them, for they still hungered the same way those beasts do, but for flesh torn from the sharpness of words, for water bled dry from tears of pain and anguish.

They still had the same primal instincts to look down on what they labelled ugly, as things below themselves, as _animals,_ when they all still had the same demon, same monster, lurking beneath the skin of what they called being civilised.

Humans are strange. They yearn for attention but scold those who do. They pity themselves but don’t give it to those to need it. They ask for forgiveness and love when they didn’t offer the same. They scream and they cry about their lives being a hell, when they’re the very same devil in someone else’s life.

But thing was, this was never going to change.

This, they could never evolve from.

This, was the very essence of what human nature was.

And Summer would know, because, God bless her soul, she was only human too.

So Summer, as human as she was, tiredly dragged her feet towards the hut and opened the creaky door of the shack and shuffled inside. It wasn’t big, most of the space occupied by boxes. But it was enough for her. There was a water boiler and a microwave, both of which she bought in a backyard sale, a small electric heater for the colder days, a pile of clothes, and layers of bedsheets to make a bed.

Summer was still saving up for a blow-up mattress. Heard they were nice.

Summer fell onto what she dubbed as her bed and groaned at its hardness. She blinked up at the ceiling, so fucking tired, and weakly, her bleak vision faded away as her eyelids drooped shut.

Summer sometimes wished she had more. Believe it or not, she sometimes wished that she could go to college, and that she could really learn something, and get a degree, get a job. Rent a flat that she could pay with the money she earned. She wished she could smile at people and people would smile back.

She wished she could go out with friends, and play with those children she saw every day at the park and that when she does, their parents wouldn’t pull them away in fear of the rotten, dirty lady. She wished she could eat food she paid for herself, and not steal.

And, fuck, she wished she had someone to blame on, but she knew, God, she knew, that it was her own fault why she could never be able to.

“It’ll get better,” She’d say softly to herself as she held herself tight, on those nights when she couldn’t fall asleep, when the thought of death flirted with her. She’d shut her eyes tight and tell herself, “It’ll all get better. I promise.”

Yet for the 25 years she’d been born into the cruel world, that hadn’t seem to happen yet.

Was she stupid or naïve to be so hopeful?

Both, she decided. It’d have to take both to be so fucking hopeful, after all these while.

But just as the most brilliant star in the sky burn out, so would her hope. And with it, her will to live.

Honestly, where was the point anyway? What was she even doing on this earth? If she died today, would anyone care?

No.

No one would.

So why?

Why was she still waiting? Why in hell was she still waiting for that something that’d come and show her that her stupid glimmer of hope wasn’t all in vain, that maybe she was there for some reason?

She was growing impatient. She was growing so sick of playing this waiting game, getting so fucking sick of expecting something, anything, good out of her life, because, really, nothing is. And God, she wishes that it wasn’t like this, that there was some light she could make out of this situation, and that she had some sort of lifeline she could grasp onto but there is _nothing_.

She was just falling at this point.

Down, and down, and down.

Where was the end?

Was there none?

She came to this earth alone, lived in it alone, so what other sense than to leave it alone?

Winter was cold but the world was colder.

Some nights, Summer would cower and repent, plead, and chant the Lord’s Prayer they had thought in the orphanage, repeating it like it was what kept her alive.

Other nights, she’d have a smile on her face, and tell herself that it was a good day, and that everything was looking up.

But not tonight.

Tonight, was not that sort of night.

Summer opened her eyes gently and carefully used the back of her hand, which were relatively clean to wipe the tear under her eyes.

Tonight, she felt… nothing. It was one of those days where she felt just… empty. Like she had no clue as to what she was doing, yet she went through those motions her body told her to do. But her heart was heavy in her chest, she felt so lost, and…

_Scared._

Summer hated feeling scared.

So she clenched her fists and bit on her tongue and inhaled a deep breath.

“That’s enough thoughts for today,” She flashed a bitter smile, the side of her lip curling up resentfully. “It’s enough for the entire week.”

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” She pushed herself up and peeled open her bag. She unwrapped a caramel candy that she refuses to believe she stole (after all, it was out there in that fancy bowl; it was all for grabs, really) and popped it in her mouth before fishing through her day’s catch.

“2, 4, 6, 7…” She mumbled as she counted the tinned cans. She also managed to get a loaf of bread from the bakery. It was from the clearance area, but it was still edible. She also got a sack of 500g potatoes, which she supposed she could heat up and dip in ketchup.

Summer did the calculations in her head. Come winter, she’d probably only need to head out once biweekly. As she stored the cans away, she felt like a wild animal, preparing for winter hibernation, and sometimes she thought she might as well be one.

She fitted better in the forest than in the city anyway. She was more afraid of businessmen trampling over her with their polished shoes than of the snakes that slithered and hissed at night.

Sighing, she picked out the parcel that she had stolen from the man in the dark suit. It wasn’t heavy, but it was thick. She carefully picked at the sides and began to open it up. Carefully, she tore open the packaging and—

_Holy mother of sweet baby Jesus._

Summer paused, blinking, confused as shit and wondering at first if it were her eyes that was playing tricks on her.

Breathing out slowly she touched the contents delicately, cautiously.

“Shit.” She muttered to herself, her breaths shaky at this point. “Well I’ll be damned.”

All she could do was stare, with an undecipherable feeling settling at the pit of her stomach, at the wads of cash (10,000 dollars, she later learned) sitting in the packaging paper.

She wondered to be happy or very, very afraid.

The latter seemed to find its way to her faster.

But hey, at least now she can buy that blow-up mattress she had always wanted.

\---

“Fuck!”

Summer hissed softly as she dipped her legs into the river.

It was freezing cold. Hypothermia-inducing cold. Summer knew she should’ve bathed a little earlier when the sun actually wasn’t a myth, but she knew she couldn’t drag it to the next day either. She needed to clean those gashes before they got worse.

The winter wind blew harshly against her skin and she wondered if she should just die from an infected wound or hypothermia. Both didn’t sound very pleasant.

“Come on now, don’t be a pussy.” Summer chanted to herself. “You can do this… you’re bad ass… You a touch bitch...”

She lowered herself carefully into the water body, and sucked in a deep breath, hollowing her cheeks as all her wounds came in contact with the cold, cold water.

“Fuck, fuck… fuck!” She repeated through clenched teeth. The cold was one thing, and the sting of it against her multitude of bloodied gashes was another.

She knew she was freaking stupid for being so careless, walking around unarmed and wearing the same clothes as yesterday in the same area. Those men had found her, cornered her and beaten her up. She was lucky to have been able to escape them.

Given, she escaped with a black eye, busted lips, a broken rib and a previously dislocated shoulder, and that knife guy did some pretty serious damage, but at least she escaped before death found her.

Restlessness filled her as she wondered what in the actual world was she supposed to do with all that money. A hundred thousand dollars was quite an amount. More than Summer’s life, it was worth. She couldn’t possibly keep the money.

Summer was a thief, but considering the terrible things people were doing nowadays, on a scale of crimes, Summer was pretty disappointing.

Heck, the most expensive thing she’s ever stolen was Belgium caramel chocolates and she still felt sorry for taking it (it was limited edition, came in a nice golden box). She wasn’t a terrible, evil criminal; she still had a sense of what was right and what was wrong, and to take 100,000 dollars that wasn’t hers was wrong.

Well, wrong-er than her usual theft of $2.99 baked beans, that’s for sure.

The thinking was starting to give her a headache so she turned her attention back to her body as she began to assess some of the wounds, washing out the dirt and the dried out blood. As she did, she couldn’t help observing her body.

She was definitely not attractive in any way. She was way underweight, with protruding ribs and gangly arms. She wasn’t all that tall, average, maybe, and the last time she had a haircut was when she owned scissors.

And it’s been a long time since she trusted herself with those.

She brushed her fingers over her abdomen. She was really pale, too, and her body had many ugly scars, some from her stupid high school years and some from running away from people after her.

And then there were those she gave herself, as a reminder.

She didn’t have those… curves either, and on days when she saw those girls on posters outside those high street stores she could never ever set foot in, she couldn’t help degrading herself.

And it wasn’t like she had a sort of secret talent or anything. She was stupid, never paying attention in class, and she wasn’t creative either. She danced like a twig, and had the artistic abilities of a chicken.

Like, honestly, make her poor, make her an orphan, but, heaven almighty, at least give her something to shout about.

Grumbling, she continued to scrub her body, getting rid of the dirt and grime. Sighing, she tore her eyes away from her not so attractive body. Suddenly, she heard a twig snap.

She ceased her movements. Nothing lurked in these areas… nothing predatory… nothing big enough to break branches…

Carefully, she lifted her body from the stream and quickly threw on her sweater and sweatpants (it was preferred that she didn’t die naked). She had a small pocketknife at her disposal, as well as whatever nature provided.

A loud crunch sounded again. Hurriedly, she ducked behind a tree.

Then she heard it, the murmurs of voices.

“Dr Petrov,” It was a thick, deep voice, with what Summer believed was a German accent. “I have been very lenient with you. You know that, don’t you? That I treat you such outmost respect and kindness?” In a lower tone, his voice sounded again, “Do you take that as a weakness, doctor?”

“N-No, sir, of course not,” Another voice, the doctor, spoke, in a much more timid voice. “But you see, it is hard… you know that. Your father, he too, had much hope in this project but you can see, it only ruined himself… I, I can’t ruin that for you too, so, you understand, I have to take extra precautions—”

“These precautions you speak of,” German cut in. “They seem to take an awful bit of time.”

“Of course, I am trying to be very precise… careful,” Dr Petrov responded. “When Druyt and Odilie ran, sir, they took everything but the list of symptoms, including severe hallucinations, and even extended periods of fainting. It will lead to lunacy—”

“Trust me, doctor, you have nothing to worry about. Lunacy is not a foreign particle in my body. For only in the eyes of those crazy enough can they start to understand the incomprehensible laws of the world.” German laughed, the sound eerie, like it belonged in a horror movie.

“Sir, you don’t understand. It was a very dangerous procedure, and the anaesthetic itself is a large enough dosage to damage your nerve cells, which results in the process not being effective.” The doctor pushed on desperately. “Give me a couple of months, sir, I just do not wish to put your life, as our leader, on the line.”

There was a pause. “One and a half. I will be patient until the winter solstice—”

_Crunch._

_Fuck… my… life…_

So this was how Summer was going to die. From falling over on her butt onto a pile off fallen leaves. She thought she was going to die a little more heroically, but the world just loved fucking with her dreams.

Summer heard the footsteps and her heart was beginning to pound heavily, fear settling itself into the depths of her stomach. Was this really her time to go?

But she hadn’t even gotten a job yet, she hadn’t even visited a different country yet, and fuck, she hadn’t even bought that blow-up mattress yet.

She realized how much of her life she had wasted.

The sound of a gun cocking alive alerted Summer of the nearing presence of death. She felt the cold sweat that coated her palms.

Maybe it was for the better of the world if she died anyway.

She deserved it.

Summer began to close her eyes and recite the Lord’s Prayer, in hopes of Him saving a spot for her in heaven (Summer nearly chuckled at the thought of that, but she tried anyway).

So, there, with her butt on the dirt and her hair still soggy, she prayed, tried to muster as much genuineness as possible in that corrupted heart of hers, as her lips mouthed the scripture pathetically, clutching her shaking hand against her desperate heart.

She hoped the Lord, or whatever omnipotent, celestial being out there—could be Hades for all she knew—would be merciful to her.

At least make her afterlife a little less painful.

Before she could say Amen, a loud gunshot rang out, and she shrieked. Eyes glued shut and nails pressed down so hard on her palms it’d leave scars, she awaited death.

_At last, you have your wish._

But the Lord seemed to have a different plan for her.

The impact of the gun’s cry never reached the side of her head.

Instead, a large palm pressed down on her mouth and pushed her to the side, spinning her in the process. She could feel the built front of a person against her back, and she attempted to scream but the gloved hand was pressed tightly down her mouth, her cries weak and muffled. She was madly trashing about but another arm was wrapped around her torso, as strong as metal, forcing her down.

“Don’t move,” A man’s voice whispered from behind her. “Don’t panic.”

Summer hoped he realized how stupid his instructions were.

But the palpitations stopped a little at the comforting sound of his words, how _tempting_ it would be to just surrender to those words, and follow those instruction. Summer almost found herself doing so—it wasn’t hard to, he had this deep authoritative voice.

Suddenly, a bright beam of light shone down onto Summer and upon looking up, she realized there was a big black copter above her and having freaked out, she hadn’t noticed that there were men and women in black surrounding her, and the forest was filled with the sound of ringing bullets. She tried to turn to look at her captor (who smelled very strongly of… grapes?), but his strong arm still refused to allow her any freedom in movement.

“You stay here, and don’t you dare move or make a sound,” He said again, his voice low. Summer couldn’t help note how rich and deep his voice was. “I mean that.” He growled again, the sound sending tingles down Summer’s spine. His breath down against her back felt warm and the tight grip around her body made her feel…

Safe?

She didn’t know the feeling of that very well.

As soon as the hands left her mouth and her body and Summer felt his overwhelming presence leave, she immediately got into action and moved.

Like, did he really think that she was going to fucking stay there while there was a mass shooting around her?

She managed to get about 3 feet (she kept closing her eyes and shrieking softly under her breath every time a trigger was pulled, which was frighteningly often) before she felt a hand on her arm again.

But it wasn’t the man from before.

He didn’t smell like grape and he was a little shorter.

And he wasn’t as built, if Summer’s back sensory nerves were correct.

“You were ordered not to move, miss.”

 “I only listen to people I can see, strangely enough.” Summer replied. Her voice trembled a little but she hoped the man didn’t pick up on that.

The man let out an impatient sigh. “Listen, I’m an agent with… a division of the government.”

“Oh, that’s supposed to make me trust you.” Summer deadpanned as the man held her in place with one hand, the other pulling out some form of identification.

“I’m here to protect you.” He continued. Summer gave the tight grip on her shoulder a look. It was beginning to hurt, but she wasn’t going to say that. “You do not know the danger of what is going on around here, and I assume you expect a… an explanation, so I’m going to bring you back to the headquarters, okay?”

Summer looked incredulous. The man waited patiently for an answer, but Summer could tell she didn’t really have an option.

Was the still clenched hand on her shoulder not a clue big enough?

“Are you seriously expecting me to just follow you, agent from a division of the government?”

There was a pause. “Yes, because we are the good guys.”

This elicited a devilish grin on Summer’s face. “Are you?” She dropped the grin. “But I’m the bad.”

The agent hesitated and Summer could feel his hand press down on her harder. “I’m sorry, miss, but you’ll have to come with us…” His voice was reduced to a monotonous, pre-memorized script and Summer couldn’t help chuckle in disbelief. “We’re afraid it’d be too dangerous for you to be out here in the city for a while.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about me,” She tried to push against the man.

“Miss, this is an order from… a division of the government, if you don’t willingly come, I’m afraid I’ll have to use more violent ways.” He warned.

“Well, man from a division of the government, this is a free country,” She plastered a smile as she tried again to distance herself from the agent.

She should’ve noticed what his other hand was reaching for.

A cool metal touched her wrists and she froze, recognizing the feeling all-too-well.

“Sorry Miss, but these are the procedures I’m mandated to follow.”

Summer wished she could’ve done something, could’ve pushed him or kicked him in the balls, could’ve done something, _anything,_ to save herself from what she knew was going to happen, but she just stood there, frozen.

“Relax, we won’t hurt you. Don’t you worry.”

_“Don’t you worry at all, baby doll…”_

Then, a second later, the sudden surge of panic registered her. 

But it was a second too late.

“Wait, wait, wait, what are you doing?” Summer struggled against the chains but the agent had already pressed down on the lock. Summer suddenly felt like she was being put into a very small and very scary cage.  Her head was spinning as she tried to push the guy away with her bounded hands, using her whole body to try to get away. Her motions were hysterical, her fingers were trembling, and she felt weak to her knees, and her world was spinning crazy fast.

If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she was going crazy, or having a heart attack, but she did know better.

The first time Summer had felt like this though, she thought she was fucking dying. She had been sweating, choking, with sudden feverish flashes riling her whole body into a wrecking mess. She was hurting all over, and she was losing control of her own body, writhing like a possessed spirit on the dirt.

She thought was devil was finally there to collect his prize.

She used to believe she’d go without a fight.

But, as much as she loved to think she was fucking invincible, she was probably the most cowardly person there was.

She had woken up, face damp with confused tears, and body curled up into a ball in the middle of the forest floor.

And the she just sat there.

She sat there, on the soil, with the moon and stars shining down on her, giving her light but all she could comprehend was the darkness engulfing her. Her tears fell but she wasn’t crying. Her heart was empty, like whatever had happened just ripped out all its contents, leaving her just as overwhelmed as she was helpless.

And then she pushed herself up, grabbed her satchel, and limped back to her hut.

Too weak to hold him back, she let the devil loose that night, allowing him to rampage through her mind, destroying, demolishing every last bit of her rationality.

Nothing new.

She guessed she just had to put everything back together in the morning.

But she was sick of doing that.

So when the man began to drag her, she resisted with all her might, crazed hands urgently doing whatever she could. Her breathing began to fasten as she wrestled against the metal confinements. She didn’t care as they burned against her skin, she just wanted them _off._

“Okay, I’ll go with you, just take it off please.” She tried to negotiate as the man began to tug her towards the left.

“I’m sorry I can’t do that. I did warn you, though, miss.” He grunted. “Now don’t be even more difficult.”

 _And then he just had to fucking say it._ “Everything will be over soon.”

Summer snapped. One moment she was hot, the next she was cold. Her eyes were being blinded by flashes of colour, bright reds and blues and—

 _Him_.

_Those mocking brown eyes, and that stench of cheap perfume, and those smacking lips…_

“No, no!” She screamed. “Take this, take this off,” She began to plead. “No, take this off. I’ll go anywhere, please… I promise, I promise I’ll be good…good… so good…”

_Hands down her body, bruises resembling fingerprints all over her body, contaminating her ivory skin, slaughtering what was left of her pride._

_Coarse and empty pleas crying out repeatedly, “Please, please…”_

“Please…”

_Cackles of evil men, eyes blinded by a piece of cloth. Hands constrained by metal. She tries to scream but a gag mutes her._

_But she can hear everything._

_And she can_ feel _everything._

Summer’s vision was beginning to blur and she could feel the familiar way her whole world was beginning to spin.

“Please, please, I don’t, I don’t want this, I really promise I’ll do _anything_ you want, _anything,”_ She felt the dampness against her cheeks as she stumbled backwards, her world tilting.

_Anything..._

_Lips, tasting like booze and cigarettes, moving on her neck, making her feel so sick and she tries to push him off, but she can’t. Her legs are tied apart and her hands tied together._

_And she’s trapped, a body above her, and a cuff against her._

_She would do_ anything _just to get away from those sweaty palms and rancid lips, anything just to feel like she was a human, not a rag doll._

She felt darkness consuming her as she tipped backwards. Something cold pressed against her left arm while her head collided with something hard. She had lost her hearing but she was still mouthing those desperate words, hoping that they would take pity on her.

_Please..._

Suddenly she felt the soft fingers grazing against the insides of her wrists and the soft sound of a click made its way into her head. Her hands fell to her sides as she stumbled backwards again.

An arm made its way around her waist.

The smell of grapes entered her nose.

“Calm down,” The authoritative voice sounded. “Breathe.”

It was soft and hesitant, but she found herself listening to those words of a stranger.

But it was a stranger that had saved her life.

Sounds pretty trustworthy.

Summer could use some trust.

“You’ll be okay,” The man assured. Summer knew that the promise was ridiculous and empty but still she grasped onto it.

 “T-thank… Thank you,” She managed to get out just as she completely lost her grip on her consciousness, entering a dream land.

This time she wished she didn’t have to come back to reality too quickly.

\---

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter Two: Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's point of view

_It was a damp and cold, dreary night. The stars were nowhere to be seen in the cloudless sky, and the moon was hanging low, its light dappled and dim. Only the wind dared to disturb the stillness of the eerie ocean of blackness as they whispered among the rustling leaves secrets about the lone stranger that stood in the middle of the road, dressed in all black, with a gun nestled in his hand._

_They called him the Winter Soldier._

_Why they called him that was never really explained, but they exchanged the tales of how it was because his eyes were like ice, his arm like metal, and his heart the coldest winter Russia’s ever seen._

_Legend was that he had assassinated over two dozen people, and in the process killed hundreds more. He was a lethal thing, and it was told that he had no emotions at all._

_He was the very embodiment of a cold, ruthless weapon; an asset, a killing machine._

_But it wasn’t really a legend, not really. Those were always about heroes._

_The stranger pulled up his gun into place._

_No, this was a horror story about a monster, a beast, the type where they hushed in muted tones over a fireplace in the dead of the night._

_He turned off the safety with a small click._

_Except this story was very, very real._

_He cocked his gun, the sound echoing eerily throughout the darkness._

_It was just that not many live to tell it._

_The soldier brought the gun near his face and narrowed his eyes, not used to seeing through a scope without crimson to decorate it._

_Not yet. Soon._

_The low rumbling of a car sounded through the empty street, and the man’s finger carefully positioned itself onto the trigger. His jaw ticked calculatedly and moved the gun a little to the left. And little upwards._

_Like a weapon, he locked that position into place._

_Two headlights shone through the dark night. There was the sound of laughter and the crackling of the radio. The sound of a kid bickering playfully. The sound of a father chuckling. The sound of a mother humming a song. The sound of love and happiness and warmth._

_The soldier trained his eye on the smiling figure behind the wheel. It was too cold out tonight for angels, and no warmth can save them from the blizzard._

_So then there was the sound of a loud bang._

_A scream._

_And the screeching of tyres._

_He released one hand from his gun and stretched it out, the metal digging into the bonnet of the car, forcing it into a halt with a squeak. He looked up, those eyes like ice glinting in the moonlight, no form of remorse or guilt on his face as he looked at the man sitting behind the steering wheels, with eyes as lifeless as his._

_His metal digits reflected the headlights as he moved towards the passenger seat. He peeled open the car door and threw it aside. The wife was begging desperately between sobs, pleading for the soldier to spare the newly widowed woman, or at least the young child sitting at the back who would be orphaned._

_The soldier did not care._

_The soldier was made not to care._

_He was a weapon, an asset, a machine created to spill blood._

_Yes. Nothing more._

_His handlers made sure he knew that._

_Or, if they preferred, they made sure_ it _knew that._

_So unforgivingly, his fingers pressed down again, and another loud bang, and another loud shrill scream echoed out._

_A thick red splattered across his scope._

_The child’s cry grew louder and the stranger dropped his gun to his side and eyed the young thing, a girl about 7, sobbing and screaming in an emotion the soldier could not understand. He took a step back._

_He kept his eye trained on the child, watching as she sobbed._

_He could not feel a thing._

_But killing the child was not part of his mission._

_He let the gun fall by his side._

_He made his way to the back of the car and opened the boot. His eyes skimmed over the papers until it reached the bottom._ HYDRA.

_The soldier picked it up, rolled it and began to make his way back to the motorcycle concealed by the trees, his movement mechanical and cold, like how he was made to be._

_Suddenly, there was a small tug on his side. Reflexively, he raised up his gun instantly and aimed it at the head of whoever it was._

_Through his bloodied scope he could see the two wide teary green eyes._

_His fingers remained on the trigger._

_“пожалуйста,” The child cried softly. The soldier just looked as she tugged against his metal arm. She was screaming out pleas by now, begging for help, for some sympathy._

_He could see the child’s fingers curling around the arm._

_Yet, he could not feel a thing._

_He clenched his jaw and felt him move his gun back to his bionic arm._

_His orders were to kill the couple, get the blueprints… and kill anyone that got in his way._

_So he freed his hand easily, the child falling backwards with a cry. He aimed the gun, and looked through the scope._

_The wide green eyes stared back at him._

_His hand pressed down on the trigger._

_Her eyes were already lifeless before her body slumped against her car._

_The Winter Soldier didn’t bother glancing at the pool of blood that was seeping into the pristine white shirt she wore, and the ivory innocence of her skin._

_And even if he did, he still would not feel a thing._

Bucky jolted awake, his breaths shallow and ragged and he frantically wrestled the blanket tangled between his limbs away from his skin, feeling claustrophobic and sick to his stomach. He was covered in a sheen of cold sweat and a low whimper sounded from his back of his throat.

He brought his knees close to his chest after realizing that his flesh hands were clawing away at his left shoulder. He dropped it immediately as he tried to steady his quivering hand with his metal one. He clenched his jaw. His eyes were damp and he carefully wiped them. Still shivering, he reached over to his side, checking for the Glock under his nightstand and the pocketknife in the drawer.

He grunted as his vision cleared up.

_He was okay._

Calming himself down with deep breaths to quieten his pounding heart, he swallowed the bile that threatened to rise as he remembered how those pleading eyes turned lifeless, all while staring right at him.

He suppressed a sob as he remembered that it was not the first time he killed someone so pure, so innocent.

He choked as he remembered it wasn’t the last.

His fingers went back to where metal and skin met as his breathing got harsher. He scratched there until he felt the rawness and only then did he drop his fingers. A feeble, scared noise sounded from the back of his throat.

He stared blankly at the wall in front of him and wiped the fresh tears under his eyes until they stopped falling.

Feeling drained, he eyed the digital clock sitting next to his bed and sighed. It was too late to try to sleep, and it was too early to be awake.

But not in Czechoslovakia.

Bucky’s hand was still trembling when he reached for his phone. He unlocked the small gadget and clicked the phone icon and dialled his most recent.

It couldn’t even finish one ring before it was picked up.

“What’s wrong?”

It was amazing how quickly Steve’s voice immediately brought Bucky a sense of ease and relief. He felt his shoulders loosen up as he left out a ragged breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

_Steve was alive._

_He was okay._

_Bucky hadn’t killed him._

_He hadn’t finished his mission._

He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he did. He gulped and pushed away the thought.

“Bucky? Talk to me,” Steve echoed from the other line, his voice deep and soft at the same time, and etched with worry that made Bucky sigh gently. “Buck?”

“Had a nightmare,” Bucky admitted, the sound scratchy and his voice vulnerable. “It was real enough that I needed to call you to make sure the last 4 months weren’t the dream instead.” He let out a bitter chuckle as he ran his fingers through his hair. It was getting long. He should get it cut soon.

“Are you okay?” Steve quickly asked. Bucky smiled gently, knowing that if he sounded the least bit disbelieving when he answered, the punk would leave his mission immediately to check up on him. He bet he’d even run here if he had to.

 _Stupid,_ a familiar voice with a Brooklyn drawl sounded in his head. It sounded like his, but it was much more carefree, tender and openly affectionate.

Innocence, was what it was. A certain purity of never having to kill a man, blow up an entire squadron, of never having to hold your best friend’s head in your lap, pressing a shaking and bloody against the gaping hole on his stomach as he looked at you desperately for help.

But you couldn’t do anything as you watched the life slip away from his eyes.

It was the cleanliness of never having to be strapped down to a table, jolts after jolts of electricity coursing through your body as you heard yourself scream, a sharp, piercing thing as you realized death would be much easier. It was the beauty, of never having your mind be someone else’s to control.

Of never feeling pulling the trigger at a person, at a fucking child and feel _nothing at all._ No remorse, no guilt, no regret as the blood splattered across your cheek.

Just numbness.

Emptiness.

And the sound of the gunshot ringing, a taunting reverb as it resonates and echoes in your brain.

God. He’d do anything back to 1930, to Brooklyn, to just him and his Stevie, and their innocence.

“Bucky, hey, Bucky, breathe,” Steve’s voice was evident with a half-masked panic. Bucky found his breaths ragged as he returned to his room, and not the table, not behind the gun. He gulps as his fingers twitched. “Bucky, are ya there? C’mon, Buck, speak to me.”

“I killed them, Steve,” he finally choked out, voice raspy as he pressed his palm to his eye. “I killed _so_ many of them. There was so many, many d-dead people. And they… they just looked at me, and I felt… I felt nothing at all, Steve.”

Bucky closed his eyes before tearing them open again panickedly, breath hitching. No. Closing his eyes would leave him defenceless to the images that kept playing in his head, to the voices in his ears and to the sickly feeling dried blood tinging his skin crimson—

“Bucky, it wasn’t you,” Steve’s voice came firmly as Bucky subconsciously huddled up in a small ball, rocking back and forth as he quivered silently. “Hydra was in your head—”

“But I could’ve fought harder, Steve, could’ve taken the pain. I should’ve died, Steve, I should’ve died when I fell, if I did, then hundreds more would have lived—”

“Stop, Bucky!”

Steve’s voice was just as ragged, was fierce and pained and raw. “I should’ve caught you.”

Bucky’s heart broke as he shook his head wildly, “No, no, Steve, don’t you dare. Stop putting everyone’s lives on your shoulders, you can’t save everybody, Steve.”

“Not everybody,” Steve said softly. “You. I could’ve saved you.”

Bucky pressed the phone tight to his ears, calming his breaths while he listened to Steve do the same. _In, out… in, out…_

Even as super soldiers, their lungs were heaving heavily and Bucky allowed a memory to play in his head. The memory of pre-serum Steve and pre-Soldier him, with Bucky crowded up against his feverish skin to protect him from the cold. They would count breaths together, Bucky making sure Steve was breathing alright.

The roles felt a little reversed now.

“Are you okay, Bucky?” Steve asked as their breathing calmed down.

“I’m fine, Steve,” Bucky assured before adding softly, “Better now.”

Steve let out a deep sigh of relief and chuckled lightly. “Scared me, Bucky.”

“Sorry.” Bucky murmured, but couldn’t bring himself to really feel apologetic. Steve had taught

“Don’t be,” Steve said, releasing a deep breath. “So, today’s your mission?”

Bucky padded over to where he left his shirt and slipped it on. “Yeah,” He answered. “Should be in a couple of hours.”

“You know, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Steve said, trying to sound nonchalant but Bucky knew what he was up to and rolled his eye.

“Steve, stop it. I do want to, okay?” He knew he sounded a little annoyed, and he hadn’t meant to, but everyone has been walking on eggshells around him, eggshells that they had put there themselves, and Bucky was getting pretty sick of it. Hell, they were even avoiding to say words like _one_ or _nine_ around him _._ He knew they meant well, but Bucky just wished they would be less careful with him.

“I know, I know, Buck,” Steve replied, voice a little upset and hurt. Bucky immediately softened. “I’m just worried, you know that.”

“I know,” Bucky murmured. “’M sorry.”

Steve sighed, “I just want you to know, you don’t need to prove anything to anyone, okay?”

“I do, Steve. I need to prove it to myself,” Bucky argued. “I need to make sure I can do this without hurting anyone, without being a threat—”

“And what if you do? You’re just going to run again?”

“If that’s what’s going to keep you safe, Steven, then yes, I fucking will,” Bucky said, his eyes flashing, the words coming out harsher than he had intended. He sighed, unclenching his fist. “Stevie…”

“Bucky.”

“I just need to make sure, Steve, okay? I’ll be fine.” Bucky assured.

“Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Bucky had recently realized he liked it when Steve used his Brooklyn accent absentmindedly. Made him feel… at _home._

Home. It was a foreign concept to the Winter Soldier. To him, home was Hydra.

But Bucky… Bucky felt like he had finally started to learn what home meant again.

“How can I?” Bucky whispered back in content. “You’ve brought all the stupid with you.”

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Steve let out a contented chuckle before releasing an exasperated groan. “Tony!” There was some muffled shouting and then a sigh. “Tony just left his post to get a donut. Oh my God, he’s signing an autograph! A picture!”

“What’s new?” Bucky said, but a fond smile covered his face. Sure, he’d fought the man to the brink of death before, but that was before he knew the guy. Stark, despite his annoying mountain of ego that could possibly put Everest’s stature to shame, was a decent man with good intentions. And Bucky had grown quite close to him.

After all, they were similar. Both misunderstood, and both hurting from their own mistakes that they’ve paid with others’ lives. They had different ways of coping, Tony with his ego and Bucky with his cold persona, and the demons in them might look different, but they hurt the same nonetheless.

Tony was his friend.

 _Friend._ The word still felt weird in his tongue and in his head. It was still puzzling for him to have his best one back, and a new handful more.

But he was extremely grateful. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve life after the ones he’s taken, but he will cherish whatever’s left of it and try to wash away his sins.

“Okay, I’ve got to go,” sighed Steve. He paused for a moment before murmuring. “I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky smiled, a little bittersweet.

Bucky knew why Steve said this almost every time they said good bye now. Steve secretly had a fear of good byes, had a fear of saying farewell to a person only to never see them again. It was why he tried to solve disputes so much.

He said it because he had embraced that Bucky could be gone every single time he said goodbye, and wished he would tell him how he felt before it was too late.

“I love you too, Stevie,” Bucky whispered.

As they hung up, Bucky made a quiet promise to himself—that he’d never leave Steve again.

Because, he remembered, back in the 1930s, two teens from Brooklyn swore an oath.

That they would be with each other, ‘ _til the end of the line._

\---

Bucky stood at the corner of the room, looking down at his gun. It was his signature one, a Skorpion. It fit perfectly in his metal fingers, which glinted back tauntingly at him.

Bucky was right handed. He did most things with his right hand. But when he came to fighting, came to _taking a life,_ he used his left hand, the bionic one.

The one that belonged to Hydra.

When Tony had made Bucky’s arm from vibranium offered graciously by the King of Wakanda, he had taken a minute to talk to Bucky. It was the serious Bucky has ever seen the billionaire (probably the most he’ll ever) but he had awkwardly coughed and looked away from the prying blue-grey eyes.

“It’s not theirs, you know.” He had begun. “It’s not Hydra’s. Not T’challa’s. Heck, it’s so good I can have an orgasm looking at it, but it isn’t mine. Or S.H.I.E.l.L.D’s. It’s all yours, Barnes.”

Bucky, still not used to having things that were _his,_ looked down at the new arm on his shoulder. The movements were more fluid and life-like. It was lighter.

And most importantly… It did not have a red star.

“Mine,” Bucky repeated slowly. Bucky did not have many things labelled as his own. He could put everything he owned in a box. In fact, it was. There was a bottle. Clothes. His notebook. “Mine.”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, smiling as he placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Yours.”

Bucky had hugged Tony then. It was strange.

The first time he used _his_ new metal arm, it was to _hug._

The first thing and only thing he’d ever done with Hydra’s was to kill.

was always Rifles, guns and the burden of death were weightless in his left hand. Heavy in his right.

But he took a deep breath, steadying himself.

And, for the first time in years, he moved the gun to his right hand. It felt warm. He brought the scope up to his eyes. Instead of seeing bloodied corpses of innocent people, he instead saw Steve in front of him, beckoning him and the rest of the Commandos forward. Dum Dum ran past him, flashing him a reassuring smile.

He smiled, remembering the way Steve had saluted him when he killed off targets before they could even be threats.

He lowered the gun, and then realized the agents around him were giving him tense looks. He realized his stance and the way his finger had rested on the trigger and apologized under his breath awkwardly before tucking the gun into its slot against the back of his tactical vest.

“They’re just wary,” A lilting voice made him turn his head. There Natasha was, leaning against the wall, a coy smile directed at Bucky. Her red hair was up in a ponytail, and it reminded Bucky of her leotard days. “I mean, ex-assassin, speaks Russian, very sexy…”

Bucky chuckled lightly at that. Natasha flashed him a genuine smile, the kind that she reserved for special people, and straightened her back and gave him a serious look.

“But, really, though, they’re just uncomfortable with the Winter Soldier being in their presence. You know what you did.”

“Do I?” He retorted. “I’m not him.”

“I know you’re not.” Natasha smiled gently and placed a hand on his arm. “But he’ll always be a part of you. It’s whether you embrace it or not that makes a difference. I’ve long accepted Red Room will always be a part of me. And maybe that makes me crazy, but more importantly, it was helped me get here.”

Bucky nodded. “You know, if… if anything happens,” He gestured to the gun against Natasha’s hip.

Natasha gave him a look. “Do you seriously think I’m going to kill you, James?”

“It wouldn’t be James you’re killing, Natalia.”

“If I became what Red Room wanted me to be, would you kill me?” Natasha countered.

“That’s different,” Bucky argued.

“How?” Natasha asked. “We were both made to become kill machines, James, but the thing is, we chose not to even when we didn’t have choices.” Natasha switched to Russian, her voice gentle. “Especially you, James. You’re stronger than you think.”

“Physically, yeah.” Bucky replied. “But I’m not so sure about my mind.”

“One way to find out,” She shrugged as Bucky noticed the agents were streaming out of the room in a single file. Natasha gave him a reassuring smile. “Ready, soldier?”

“Well,” He said as he slotted his .44 magnum revolver into his side holster. “It _is_ winter.”

-

Bucky easily weighed more than 200 pounds with his metal arm, but he was as silent as a ghost as he weaved among the dense mass of trees.

He moved like he was a part of the shadows, and crept silently until he got to a better vantage point. It felt good, actually, to have a rifle in his hands. Any previous fear or anxiety were washed away as he levelled his eye into the scope and focused it on the two Hydra agents.

His fingers curled around the trigger readily.

As a kid, many people marvelled at Bucky’s long, artistic fingers. “If your ma and pa were richer, you could’ve played the piano! Mastered it!” They used to say. “They’re so elegant and graceful. Those rich snobs would kill to have your hands.”

And apparently they did. So much they cut the whole arm off.

Bucky sometimes hated his metal arm more than anything else. He clawed, he scratched and did anything to get it off. Bucky had secretly enjoyed the one month in which he had spent without it. It resembled Hydra too much, and not just the star, but everything about it. It was the very thing that made Bucky… not Bucky, and everything that made him the Winter Soldier.

Bucky wished he could learn how to play the piano—the Avengers tower had a beautiful one. He tried once, when he was alone.

But the music sounded awful. A lack of harmony— _dissonance._ Not between the keys he was playing, God no. The piece was a beautiful one, and he managed to play the right notes.

No. Dissonance between him and the piano. Of something made to create, and something made to destroy. Something beautiful and something so ugly, so monstrous that he hated looking into mirrors.

He never tried to play again.

 _“Tranquilizers shoot on my command,”_ Coulson’s voice buzzed through the comms. Bucky frowned as he leaned forward and watched the two men. According to intelligence, one of them was a doctor, the other one someone with a high security level clearance. Bucky had never seen them before.

Which wasn’t surprising. He had, after all, personally killed a large number of them during those 2 years undercover. But of course, more had risen.

Bucky felt sick. How many more will there be? How many more heads will rise from the ashes? How many more lives sacrificed until they will be taken down?

Bucky contemplated for a quick moment before deciding to inch a bit forwards. He moved stealthily, his thick boots never making a sound, as he made his way behind a bush. He could hear their soft murmurs now.

Bucky looked over the bush and frowned. They hadn’t encountered any guards around. He realized whatever they were talking about must have been sensitive information.

He winced again as he realized if he had still been Hydra’s Fist, he would be right there, with the same sniper in his hands, but with eyes as cold as ice and a brain that wasn’t truly his.

The though—no, _memory,_ sent sick feeling down Bucky’s throat.

The Winter Soldier was a multi-purpose tool. He could be used as a weapon, as a machine, as a perfect guard, as _anything_ anyone could ever ask. His loyalty was exchanged for his life.

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. _No._ This would be what Hydra wanted. For him to never be able to escape the nightmares that was once his reality.

He calmed himself down, taking in deep breaths, and brought the scope back to his eye once again. He steadied his arm for a good aim. He was wary of killing, afraid it may trigger his… programming, but they were Hydra. That one word itself was enough assurance for Bucky to kill anyone these days.

Funny how it used to be 10.

He focused on the taller man but frowned as he noticed something white against a tree. He twisted his scope, zooming in.

A… _girl?_

She was hidden from the Hydra agent’s plain view, and she was shivering. Her hair was drenched, creating darker spots on the grey sweater she wore. Her eyes were fearful and wide, and she was seemingly unarmed. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. What on earth was she doing there?

Could she be part of Hydra? But why would she be hiding? Was she… was she cargo? Something ( _someone,_ Bucky scolded himself) precious?

Or maybe… She was a honey trap. Bucky tilted his head in wonder. She wasn’t exactly beautiful or sexy but… the way she was dressed? Looking like… like so innocent, with her oversized sweater and the way she looked so helpless.

The thought made Bucky uncomfortable, but he knew there were people who liked that, liked girls who were easy to throw around.

Bucky shook his head from the thought and contemplatively eyed her through the scope. Bucky noted the way her fingers trembled and then—

 _Oh my God._ Bucky had to hold in his snort. The girl had fallen on her butt, and her eyes had went so wide it was almost comical, if the two Hydra men hadn’t turned around, alerted by the loud crunch of leaves.

 _“What happened?”_ Coulson asked.

Bucky frowned, disregarding the question as the girl shook almost violently with fear, clutching her hands to her heart. Bucky sighed.

And then, being such a kind and heroic soul, he lowered his rifle and decided to go after the idiot, who was still fixated on the floor.

The Hydra agent was making his way towards the girl now, cocking his gun. Bucky swore underneath his breath and pushed faster, all while remaining quiet.

By the time the agent had pressed his fingers onto the trigger, Bucky had already made his way there, and pushed the girl aside, pressing her back against her front as he spun her out of the range.

 _“Now,”_ Coulson alerted and as the first rounds went off, the Hydra agent’s eyes went wide. Before Bucky could stop him, he had begun running, dragging the other man along.

Bucky was about to go after them when a soft whimper sounded, bringing Bucky’s attention back to the soft figure in his hold. He realized just how small her body was, now that Bucky’s large frame was crowded up against her. She was cold, and smelled like… salt water and grass?

Hm.

It was a strangely intoxicating scent.

Bucky couldn’t help but breathe a little deeper. It smelled like wilderness… like freedom.

And then she started to struggle, trashing her small body around. Jesus, she was a powerhouse. Her matted hair nearly whipped against Bucky, but he dodged out of the way and growled lowly against the girl’s ear.

“Don’t move,” He hissed. “Don’t panic.”

Slowly, the girl stopped moving so wildly and Bucky loosened his metal arm slightly, not wanting to hurt her. She was breathing a little slower too, as she subconsciously moved back against Bucky, slumping her upper body against his arm. He blinked, for a moment unsure of how to react, before realizing she must have been so cold.

And so scared too.

Her teeth were chattering from either feeling.

He then picked up on the slight harshness of her breathing, the way it heaved gently as she sniffled.

For some reason, it reminded him of Brooklyn. Of Steve.

So, Bucky pressed her a little tighter against his front.

She made a soft contented sound.

Before Bucky could linger on it, or begin to wonder just why it felt nice to have this stranger in his arms, his comms sounded against his ear.

_“What the hell was that?”_

 “You stay here,” Bucky murmured. “And don’t you dare move or make a sound.” The girl didn’t respond, making Bucky feel a little suspicious. “I mean that.”

The girl nodded stiffly and Bucky gently released her, steadying her before walking to the site where the two Hydra agents were. He pressed against the earpiece. “There’s a girl. Might be a suspect. Can you send someone to her? She’s to the east of the scene.” Not bothering to check coordinates, he didn’t mention any. Whatever. He knew they had trackers installed in his suit and weapon anyway.

He moved back to the clearing and saw Natasha there. She was looking frustrated, but other than the small smudge of dirt on her chin, she looked, as always, flawless, her hair still perfectly in place and her red lips bright. Typical of Natasha. Coulson was next to her.

“What was that?” He repeated.

“There was a girl,” Bucky explained. “She was hiding from them, but she alerted them. She was close. Could have heard their conversation.”

“I’ll ask for her to be retained.” Coulson said. Bucky hesitated, but he had already turned and marched back into the carrier.

“Did she fight?” Natasha asked.

“No,” Bucky shook his head, remembering those wide eyes filled with so much fear, “She was… scared.”

“Hmm,” Natasha responded.

“What action did you get into?” Bucky asked back, wiping the smudge on her skin. She hummed a thanks in return.

“There was a whole ward of Germans safeguarding his exit to their fancy new toy. Apparently they lack designers; it was built just like the Quinjet.” She sighed. “Didn’t manage to stop them. They’re important. The guards were fearless in throwing themselves at a Black Widow.”

“Stupid,” Bucky nodded.

“Yeah. Idiots.” She smiled.

Natasha then excused herself to talk to Coulson about something and Bucky immediately turned and headed back to where the girl was. _Just… for safety purposes,_ he told himself. As he neared, he heard a cry. A girl’s. He frowned and immediately fastened his footsteps.

And there she was. She was screaming wildly as she pushed against an agent’s arms. She was handcuffed, Bucky realized. And then he heard what she was saying.

“Please, please, I don’t, I don’t want this… I’ll do anything,” A sob wrecked through her as she desperate tried to plead. “I really promise I’ll do _anything_ you want… _anything.”_

The words felt dirty, felt like a desperate promise and an overused compromise.

Bucky stepped forward.

She was completely out of it, her words incoherent and slurred as she frantically threw her body around. Yet the agent was still trying to drag her to the jet. Bucky felt sick to his stomach as he pushed the agent off and wrapped her arms around the girl. He scowled at him. “I’ll take it from here.” He demanded harshly. “Keys.”

The man nodded fearfully, intimidated by the soldier as he passed the keys to him. He gestured for the man to go away, and thankfully, he wasn’t too stupid to question him. He quickly unlocked the cuffs and rubbed against the red skin there.

“Hey,” He murmured lowly as he remem­bered those calming techniques the therapist taught him. He rubbed against her arm and tried to keep the strokes even. “Calm down.” He noticed her wheezes. “Breathe.”

Bucky slowed down his own breathing and timed it with hers, until she was breathing as deeply.

She calmed down slowly as she leaned her head back against his. She was still shivering. He frowned as he held her in place and moved back, quickly removing his coat and draping it around her. She snivelled softly as he adjusted the fabric.

“You’ll be okay,” Bucky promised gently.

The girl leaned her head against Bucky’s chest. “Thanks,” She whispered, barely audible before she passed out, her body going limp against the soldier. He easily picked her up, noticing just how worryingly light she was.

Instinctively, she curled up against him and his body heat.

As Bucky carried her back to the carrier, looking down every time she made a distressed sound, he seriously hoped she wasn’t a honey trap, because if she was, then… well, he was screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you liked this chapter and I'm glad some of you guys like this :) Concrit is once again welcomed! 
> 
> Be kind and I hope you have a good day :D


	3. Chapter Three: Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer wakes up in a strange place. Strange things happen and she meets strange people like... Captain America?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends!  
> I took my GCE O level English papers the other day. I hope I do well.  
> This chapter is mighty long (this is the first time I've ever written a fiction with so many words like WTF? Each chapter is at least around 5K words? With other fictions of mine I rarely surpass 2K?) so I hope it doesn't bore y'all to death.  
> Hope you like. Enjoy!

Summer was dreaming.

Summer rarely dreamt, but when she did, she dreamt lucid, her dreams coming in vivid, bright tones, the images and memories clear and detailed even as she awoke. Heightened self-awareness in dreams proved to be useful—especially in her recurring nightmares, where she just ran until she regained consciousness.

But thing was, even though she knew she was dreaming, knew no harm could touch her, she was also illogically borderline hypnophobic—fearing sleep on many nights as it meant the possibility of nightmares she couldn’t control. Sure, she could control her movements, but one thing she had always wanted as a superpower was to be able to control her fear.

Summer had spent a long time in her wakeful state how to tame the beast in her mind, perfecting on how to hold it back with distractive thoughts and busy pastimes, but the second she left her consciousness unguarded, the demon became all she knew, tearing down every restraint she’s built in place.

Being lucid was supposed to mean that dreaming came without fear, but it was difficult when her dreams came alive in different layers of her fears.

She wondered which one it was this time.

Eyes drinking in everything around her, she noted that she was in a lab, all was pristine and white, with no speck of dirt anywhere. Everything placed in their rightful positon, chairs pushed in carefully like in a kindergarten teacher’s dreams. The air was room temperature, and smelled faintly of bleach.

It was too perfect, too organized. The feeling of serenity seemed forced and the calmness was like the one before a storm.

She hoped she didn’t have to stay before she could find out, but with her luck, something bad was bound to happen.

She stepped forward, and looking down, she saw she was in a lab coat, but her feet were bare. Strange. Breathing softly, she moved, eyeing everything cautiously and vigilantly, meticulously trying to find anything out of place.

As she continued to walk down the lab, she suddenly saw a piece of stray paper sitting on a table to her left. Ominous black ink spilled all over it in messy and almost frantic looking strokes.

It did not belong.

“What are you doing here?” Summer murmured under her breath as she picked it up. She frowned and scanned over the paper.

 _Symptoms include_  
Hallucinations  
Nausea  
Severe delirium  
Hypothermia  
Cognitive dysfunction  
Pneumothorax  
Susceptibility to illness in early stages  
Nerve damage  
Psychosis

She furrowed her eyebrows, lips curling into a frown. She looked up and saw a needle sitting on the table. It wasn’t there before. She looked closer at it, right hand carving out imprints of nails onto the paper as the left reached out for it. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the bead of bluish green liquid sticking against the plastic inside.

“Summer.” She nearly screamed in fright as she felt the shaking hand on her shoulder. Her heart was palpitating as she turned to see a man in his forties. Blood was trickling down his chin, onto his white lab coat.

“W-who the fuck are you?” Summer asked incredulously, heart still ramming against her ribcage.

“I don’t have time to explain much.” He said hurriedly, eyes wide and flashing with a feral look, fingers cold as they curled around Summer’s shoulder. “But, Summer, listen. Sometimes, good and bad, they look the same. Sometimes to be good, you have to go with your enemies but listen, listen, girl.”

He grasped onto Summer’s face and Summer suddenly noticed his eyes were the exact shade of brown hers was. Her breathing is ragged now as his eyes dart wildly before whispering,  “Sometimes, you can find allies in the darkest corners, okay? Remember that?”

“I don’t understand.” Summer stammered out in confusion.

“You will,” He nodded assuredly. “Just remember, don’t trust anyone until they trust you, and even then, keep one hand on the wheel, and your foot next to the pedal.” His eyes suddenly widened, pupils dilating and he started choking. Summer pushed against him in panic and he fell to the ground and started to convulse.

“Run, Summer!” He screamed as he started to cough out streams of blood, a splatter hit Summer’s cheeks as she sharply inhaled, shocked. “Run, _run!”_

As the man fell to the floor, Summer felt her feet move. And then she was running. She ran out the door, onto a barren street that stretched on infinitely. She paused for a mere second before running again, hands pumping by her sides as her lungs strained heavily. The man’s lifeless eyes had looked… looked so familiar, looked exactly like—

_Hers._

_This is a dream. This is a dream._ She reminded herself as she slowed into a stop. Heart pumping insanely.

Only then she looked down at the paper that was still clutched in her trembling hands. Her breath hitched in her throat.

A new symptom had been added.

It appeared in thick black ink, smeared and smudged across the page. Summer gulped, her breaths slowing down. So she had been right. They had yet another picked another fear of hers for this nightmare.

_Death._

_\---_

When she woke up, Summer was still scared of what she had seen in her very realistic dream. Her skin was covered in goose-bumps and cold sweat, heart feeling like dead weight in her chest. She pushed herself up and tried to remember where she was.

Slowly, she remembered the gunfire. The handcuffs. Her episode.

She started to panic. Where the fuck was she now?

And then she remembered the man. His warmth. The way he smelled of grapes. Those bewitching eyes. And the way he was so gentle and so… safe, like he wouldn’t hurt Summer. She had to be safe now…

Right?

She was in a room, all empty except for the bed she lied on. Someone had changed her out of the sweater and into what she assumed could pass as a hospital gown, but a fancier version. The material of it was nicer than anything Summer had ever owned before, and Summer frowned as she realized the dirt that usually got stuck under her nails were cleaned out. She touched her hair and balked, feeling for it again. It was… silky smooth. Like the commercials showed.

Should she be thankful or worried?

She looked around. The walls were creamy and white, and there was a monitor next to her, beeping softly in sync to her heartbeat.

“Hello Miss,” A smooth velvety voice surprised her. She turned around and saw a professional looking lady with a clipboard smiling politely at her. “Are you comfortable? Perhaps you’d like to change into something more appropriate?”

It didn’t feel like a question, so Summer nodded obediently. As friendly as the lady’s bright beam was, she found it oddly scary and threatening.

The lady pressed her palm on the wall, showcasing her slender fingers and perfectly manicured nails, and the wall buzzed in response, the area she’d press extending out into a drawer. “What size are you?”

“I, uh,” Summer felt herself flush in embarrassment. The thrift store’s second hand piles usually had the sizes cut off. The lady seemed to pick up on her hesitancy and just smiled again.

“No worries. You’re very small.” She nodded and gave her a once over. Summer returned the favour and sighed inwardly. Of course she had to be gorgeous, all blond-haired and blue eyed and long legs and _god damn,_ she’s still smiling? “I’ll just get you one of the smaller sizes.”

She pulled out a pair of pants and a t-shirt before she pressed on another area, another drawer sliding out. She pulled out a pair of undergarments and smiled as she handed it to Summer.

“I’ll be back in 5 minutes,” She announced. Before Summer could ask anything,  or fathom anything, really, she’d left. She barely caught a glimpse of the hallway outside, before the door hummed shut.

She examined her body as she quickly put on the crisp clothes, noting that it was the first time since the orphanage that she was wearing a wrinkle-free shirt. There was a bruise on her right wrist, while the left just slightly red, and a small cut on her knee. The rest of the wounds were the ones from before.

And somehow, she _felt_ perfectly fine. She shouldn’t. She should be trashing around and screaming, _where the fuck am I?_

But she was just an ocean of calm.

But like in the dream, she felt like the peace inside of her was a forced thing.

She didn’t have more time to ponder further. The lady was back again.

“Better?” She asked, giving Summer that practiced and perfected smile. She just shrugged in return and the lady gestured towards the open door, ushering her out.

“Where,” Summer’s voice was hoarse from disuse. She coughed. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you.” She responded immediately. “Not just because you’re under witness protection, but also because you’ve done nothing wrong.” The lady said in a perfected tone that left Summer feeling like she did do something wrong.

Or more like, if she _did_ do something wrong…

“Witness?” Summer asked instead.

“Yes,” The lady answered curtly as they took a left. Summer had to strain her comparatively shorter legs to keep up with her. Before she could ask anything else, she halted into a stop in front of a door. The lady knocked twice.

“Hello, Mr. Brown, I have the witness here with me.” She declared as the door opened to reveal a man in a three piece suit, smiling at Summer.  Her skin prickled with discomfort at the sight of him.

He was pristine. Perfect. Like the lab.

Forced.

“Oh, good. I’ve been waiting for you, Summer. Come on in.” He beamed, and Summer tried to smile back out of politeness, but it was more of a show of teeth. Well. A for effort?

He motioned her to sit down on a plush sofa, while he sat at the side of it. He had a table sitting front of him that was empty save for a file and a set of pens. They were all placed in a meticulous order, too. Either everyone here had OCD, or Summer had been right about her assumptions of everything being forced.

Was she going to be as well? Forced?

The question was, into what?

As the man, Mr Brown, pulled out a piece of paper from the file, Summer looked around the room. It was just like the one she woke up in, except there was a soft classical music playing at the back, like the ones they played in the fancy hotel Summer got her caramel candies from. A potted plant sat at the corner of the room.

Summer wondered if this room had secret panels too. She wondered what could be inside them.

“Right, so. I’m Alex, Alex Brown, you can call me by my first time.” He smiled as he clicked his pen. Good God. Why did everyone had to be so smiley? “I’m just going to ask you some simple questions, I wish that you would answer them as truthfully as possible, okay?” It wasn’t a question so Summer just made a small nod. “Any questions?”

“What is this for?” Summer asked slowly.

“Well,” Mr Brown paused. “I’ll be honest with you, we’re going to ask some personal question, because if you don’t know yet, we have to be very safe here as we’re correlated to the US government, so we’ll just be simply asking a few questions to make sure you’re on our team, okay?”

Summer nodded. “Okay,” She replied. He didn’t sound threatening, and she appreciated that he was honest.

She should have known better.

But he just looked so nice, with that nice smile and comforting eyes. “Good. Let’s start with a name.”

Summer paused, wondering if she should give him her real name. “Summer,” She decided finally in a clipped tone.

He nodded and wrote it down on his paper. “Last name?”

Summer bit down on her lip. “Don’t have one.” It was the truth. She though the man wouldn’t believe her, but after a quick pause, the man nodded.

“Tell me a little about yourself, yeah? Age, occupation, that sort of thing.”

“Um… I’m 25.” Summer paused. “Born on the 29th of February.” She carefully tiptoed around the occupation question. “So that’s kind of unfortunate.”

“Do you think that’s an unfortunate thing?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Summer shrugged.

“What about your parents?” Mr Brown asked.

“Dead,” Summer said without a pause. He offered condolences. Summer said thank you even though she didn’t feel like there was anything to be grateful about.

This went on for a little bit, Summer carefully dodging questions she didn’t feel like sharing the answers to. Vagueness and ambiguity were her best friends now. It wasn’t like she was lying.

Lying by omission isn’t really lying, right?

“Alright. So, would you like to tell me about what happened last night?” Mr Brown asked after a while as he clicked his ball pen patiently. Summer gave a shrug. “Why were you in the forest?”

Summer chewed on her lip absentmindedly, unsure of how to answer. “I was taking a walk.” She lied.

“Why the forest?”

“I like nature,” Summer didn’t miss a beat. “Calms my nerves.”

She didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed that she could lie so well, so casually.

“May I ask why you were nervous?” Mr Brown asked after scribbling something.

“I was dealing with some… personal problems.”

“Right.” Mr Brown didn’t look very pleased but wrote something anyway. “And what happened that night? Can you tell me about the two men in the forest?”

“It was hard to tell anything much. I couldn’t really see them. The wind covered their voices. The crickets too.” Summer kept it vague. “All I know was there were two men. One was tall. The other one short.”

“And why did they shoot you?”

Summer tilted her head. “I fell and alerted them. They must’ve thought I was… I was you guys.”

“And then you started to panic?”

Summer didn’t feel like explaining her panic disorder and triggers. Hell, she herself had never been explained about panic disorders either, and her specific triggers were what she learned along the road. She just… guessed, Googled.

Half the time she never knew what the fuck was going on.

Does anyone really?

“Anyone would.” She said instead.

Mr Brown agreed and wrote some more notes. “And then there was a man.”

“Two, remember?”

“No, I mean, there was a man who protected you from the gunshot.”

Summer blinked, lips suddenly dry. _That_ man. “Um yeah.”

“You remember him?”

“Yes. He helped me. Save me and helped with my… panic. Could you… could you possibly thank him for me?”

“You’re welcome.”

Summer froze at the familiar voice.

Mr Brown stood up and smiled politely. “Oh, thank you for joining us, Mr Barnes. I was told you were busy…”

“I wasn’t told what it was about. Who. Would you mind if I take a couple of moments with Summer?” Her name sounded so nice in his husky voice. Summer hoped she didn’t outwardly express the shiver that went down her spine. “Don’t worry, Mr Brown. I’ll write down anything I find helpful.”

“Of course, Mr Barnes.” Alex chuckled, embarrassed. “I’ll give you guys, uh, five—”

“Ten.”

“Ten minutes. Right.” Alex gave Summer a small smile before she heard the door click shut.

That’s right. Why hadn’t she heard it open when the mystery man, _Barnes,_ had entered?

Summer held her breath as she heard the gentle footsteps. His body came into her view and then he sat down. Summer hesitantly looked up.

A pair of blue eyes, with the lightest hints of grey, blinked at Summer with a look she couldn’t decipher. She blinked again, the soft smell of grapes entering her nose. She couldn’t help breathing a little deeper to take another whiff of the soothing scent.

And then, she gulped as she realized just how fucking handsome the guy was.

His hair grazed the collar of the dark long-sleeved shirt he wore and he had a 5 o clock shadow, and his lips were pink and soft. His jaw, however, was sharp and strong in contrast. He looked dangerous and mysterious, and so alluring.

_He was like a wet dream._

Summer nearly sputtered in disbelief at herself, feeling a blush rising up at her obscene thought, before regaining composure, looking down to her jeans. What the fuck, Summer? She couldn’t believe she had just thought that.

She peeked up at him again once more though, through her lashes, hoping he wouldn’t catch her.

 _Damn_ , she thought in appreciation. He was really good looking.

He was reading the piece of paper now. “You said you were walking in the forest.” Summer restrained the shiver that wrecked through her body at the sound of his low, soft voice. It was husky and velvety at the same time. The sound immediately initiated a feeling of safety in her, as if her body had automatically associated his voice with comfort. She realized just how dangerous that was, how risky it was to allow herself to feel so safe.

She knew that, knew pain could be the only possible result, yet she still didn’t want the warmth spreading over her to stop.

 _I deserve it, after all these years of being afraid,_ a part of her said, the part that was the devil.

And, well, who was she kidding? That meant almost all of her.

 “Y-yeah.” Summer crossed her arms against her chest defiantly, as the man gave her a look that told her he didn’t buy it. “Why, you don’t believe me?”

“Well, I’m not a fucking idiot,” The crude word left his lips in such a graceful manner and Summer gulped at the way his voice dropped when he’d said it.

He was looking right at her now, and Summer had to tear her eyes away before she could get lost in the depth of those endless oceans staring into her. Through the peripherals of her eyes, though, she could still catch his eyes lingering on her.

Feeling his scrutinizing gaze, she tried to sit a little straighter and she hoped she looked alright even though she hadn’t seen a mirror over the past day. She wished she could’ve brushed her hair or maybe asked for a nicer outfit.

“That’s not very nice to Alex.” She licked her dry lips in a pathetic attempt to get him to pay her some more attention.

_Well, was he looking…?_

She tried to discreetly brush a lock of her hair behind her ear and take a peep at him. Her shoulder’s dropped a little when she realized he wasn’t.

Then a small, amused and bitter smile rose to her lips. She was amused at herself, for being so desperate for a little bit of attention. So what if he was looking? Him? Interested in her?

A bubble of chuckle almost escaped Summer’s lips from the thought of that.

Bitter, because she knew any attempts would be futile.

She wasn’t _that_ Summer anymore. No more push-up bras and dim lighting and drunkenness to help her get what she wanted. And God forbid, she wasn’t the same hair-twirling girl, dirty princess with the coy smile and…

_That easy whore._

_Red lipstick stains. Big doe eyes. Seductive little smiles and nudges._

_Breathe, Summer._

She gulped. Mind flashing wildly as she brought herself back to the present. She promptly pushing the thought aside. There were more important matters than the mess that was her state of mind turned. Like, for example, the beautiful man in front of her.

A corner of the man’s lips rose sardonically, drawing more attention to the lushness of it. Damn, he was making this hard. But Summer decided if she couldn’t have it, she’d just appreciate it like any sane person would to such a piece of art. “Well, who ever said I was nice?”

Summer’s mind instantly went to how he had held her in the forest, tried to calm her down as she cried. She suddenly felt embarrassed and that he had to see her like that, but he wasn’t crude about it. He was gentle. Her heart tugged as she realized she should’ve savoured that moment, savoured the feeling of his arms around her body, making her feel so… warm. So safe.

Didn’t that classify as nice? Well, it certainly was the nicest anyone had ever treated her…  

So Summer paused before letting her hands drop back down to her lap. She looked away awkwardly, biting down on her lip. “Well, y-you were nice to me.” She said in a small, unsure voice, blinking up at him uncertainly.

“That’s your idea of nice? I was carrying out a duty, Summer, not an act of kindness.” He said and the words somehow stung a little. _Stupid._ Of course. He was just doing his fucking job. Summer faltered, and chided herself for her naivety.

She felt like a child again, like she was being scolded. It was familiar, being rejected like that. She had a problem with that too, in the orphanage, always throwing herself and attaching herself to the first person who would offer her a hint of pity.

Whenever a parent entered the orphanage, they would go around and they’d coo at Summer while she beamed up brightly with missing teeth. In the end, Summer would always be certain she’d finally be able to go home and have a family and a pink room to call her own.

But she never ended up having one.

It happened for 14 years before Summer could get used to it.

Well, at least she thought she got used to it. Now, seeing Bucky give her what looked like a reproachful expression, she felt like a child again, watching out the window, seeing the parents hold a child happily as they entered the car.

Summer hated herself for being so bitter. She should be glad for her friends.

But instead, she was selfish, she was angry that it was them, when it should be her. It should be her who deserved parents. Deserved love.

“And, no, Alex wasn’t stupid.” Bucky’s words brought her out of her state. She was spacing out a lot. It was exhausting. “Of course, he noted here you were lying.”

“Huh?” Summer paused, finally getting her mind out of the gutter at those words. “What d’you mean?”

“About walking in the forest. Mr Brown wrote here—lied about reason for being in the forest.” He looked up, and Summer tried her best to look confused. “Don’t bother. I may just be keener towards speech patterns, but Mr Brown is a professional psychologist and interrogator.”

“Wait, excuse me?”

A faint ghost of a smile spread across his lips. “This is an interrogation and a psychoanalysis, Summer. Have you not picked up on that? Hm. You certainly aren’t the smartest, huh?” Then he murmured under his breath. “I wondered why you were sent.” Then he looked up again at Summer, who was now chewing nervously on her lips, eyebrows scrunched as she processed his words. “Right.”

But Summer was too shocked to try to comprehend the rest of what he was saying, instead she was… she was boiling, a hot vehement flame waiting to…

“How dare you?” she finally screeched. “That is rude of you to interrogate and analyse me without my consent! You guys should’ve at least, at least told me or something!”

“And then you’d do it willingly?”

Summer didn’t know how to respond. “Maybe not, but still!” She glared at him, unafraid to eye him now that she was furious. She couldn’t believe it. _Psychoanalysis?_

_Did he pick up on anything?_

The man suddenly slammed down on the table and it cracked in the middle. Summer gasped in surprise, jolting backwards. The blue eyes were cold now. She nearly shivered upon looking at them, prying her eyes away and looked at the now broken table. How can hands so gentle be so… so rough?

“Listen Summer, you can play dumb all you want, but remember, I saved your life. I can take it back.” He said lowly.

He didn’t sound very nice now either. Summer couldn’t help the prickle of fear and the clogging in her throat.

Anger often never resulted in good endings.

“So really, you can choose not to tell us the truth,” He murmured. “And keep playing whatever game you’re at. But don’t forget what we can do. We can _force_ you.”

Summer paled and glared at him.

He _knew_ she hated being forced. Could die just from it.

And now he was using it against her?

“And really, you owe your life to me,” he continued. “So, now tell me, what did you hear?”

Summer was feeling very scared now. He looked really scary. He looked nothing like the man from before. But she did her best not to show her fear, knowing it would only be for his advantage. Instead she tilted her chin upwards in defiance. Her voice was shaky, “I said just now, I didn’t hear anything. The wind was loud and the crickets—”

“Unfortunately, crickets don’t survive in the winter. Crack a book when you try to lie, at least.”

Summer was fuming by now, and extremely embarrassed, and showed it by hardening her eyes . She knew she was stupid, hadn’t gotten a single A in the whole of high school, never really understood what the teacher was teaching, but she hated it whenever she was reminded just how fucking stupid she was.

How ungrateful she was for education.

She felt like she was going to cry. Fuck. Since when was she so emotional about things? She looked away angrily before he could see her watery eyes.

Too late.

“Your Prozac must be wearing off.” His voice had returned to a less harsh one, but Summer was still feeling the aftereffects of his previous anger. “Would you like some more?”

“Excuse me?”

And then he was back. “As much as I would love to think you can put your own emotions under control, we know you’re not very good at that.” The man said as Summer tightened her fist so much her nail nearly pierced her skin. She couldn’t help the hurt and betrayal in her. She was so fucking stupid for thinking this man actually _cared._ She couldn’t believe she had thought he had been genuinely concerned when she had been going through a panic attack. _Fuck him._ “So, would you like some Prozac to help?”

“No,” Summer said hotly. She didn’t know what Prozac was, but she suddenly didn’t want anything this man had to offer, not even the warmth he gave her, not the fucking feeling of safety he seemed to radiate and not the way she owed him her life.

He could take it if he wanted to.

Summer suddenly wished she’d die yesterday. That the gangsters in the alley could’ve just drove their stupid knives into her and killed her, or the bullet should’ve just hit her.

Everything was so confusing now, and she just wanted to curl up in her sweater, not this shirt that belonged to a bunch of mean yet smiling people.

Summer just wanted out.

“Okay,” The man shrugged. “Now, can you please tell us the truth about what happened? It’d mean a lot to us. A lot to me.”

Suddenly very tired and upset, and still a little drained from her previous episode, Summer rubbed her eyes and snapped. “I don’t even know who ‘us’ is, and who you are! Where the hell am I even?”

She just really wanted to go home now and forget about all of this. Forget about the weird German men, the gun pointed at her head, and the man who she had a crush on for a brief moment (because who wouldn’t) before realizing he was an arse with his own agendas. She just wanted to forget the way he smelled of grapes and didn’t give a shit about her and had the best eyes she’d ever seen.

She was so done with this. What the fuck was going on? She just wanted to go back to her shit excuse of a hut and sleep on her fucking mattress and forget how nice having a bed to sleep on was and nice, clean undergarments was for a change.

Summer seriously felt like she was going to cry. What the fuck?

“S.H.I.E.L.D.” He said after a small pause, as if it explained everything. Noticing Summer’s still confused look, he frowned. “You don’t know S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Am I supposed to?” She said, voice cracking.

The man blinked thoughtfully. “Okay then. Alright, what about the Avengers?” Summer still looked completely lost. “Falcon? Hawkeye? Iron Man? Captain America?”

“Oh, that one I know,” Summer frowned. “But what does he have to do with any of this. He’s a superhero.”

The man was silent for a moment before nodding.

“I’ll be back.” He stood up suddenly, his chair dragging backwards as he made his way towards the door. Summer noticed the keypad by the door that he pressed a code into. Fear suddenly registered her.

“W-wait, are you, are you going… am I going to be here alone?” Summer said quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the panic in her voice. She added, “I mean, aren’t you afraid I’d… escape?”

She caught his lips flicker upwards in what looked like an amused smile. “You? Escape? Hm. I’d love to see you try.”

With that, he left Summer alone in the room, finally, for the first time since being the forest, giving her some space to think _what the fuck just happened?_

Oh, and also, some privacy so she could finally cry.

\--

Summer wasn’t sure why she wasn’t full on panicking by now. She was stuck in fuck knows where, in a room with a door she couldn’t access, unhealthily infatuated with a man who looked more dangerous than he _felt_ and yet she was sitting quietly on a chair, rubbing away the signs that showed her tears, not really doing what she did best—panic.

She guessed it was because the man, and this… S.H.I.E.L.D., well, as rude as they were, they were the _good_ guys… right?

Flashes of the dream, vivid and so real, reminded her, _“Don’t trust anyone.”_

She gulped, eyebrows furrowed.

She remembered what she had read on the paper. The list of symptoms. She thought back about the conversation in the forest. They had mentioned something about symptoms too. Something about the process being dangerous… mutation…

Summer frowned, suddenly more confused than ever.

Were _they_ the good guy?

Mutations were bad, though, right?

But these people, these people weren’t exactly great towards Summer either?

Summer knew the line didn’t part easily. Good and evil was different to differentiate sometimes. They did come from the same fruit, after all. Good people use evil methods. Evil people are striving for something that can be good.

Summer tapped her fingers indecisively. If she told them what they wanted to hear, they’d let her go, and she could return to her shit life. Yeah, it was shit, but at least it was… safe, right?

Funny. Running over rooftops and stealing from grocers and living in the middle of a jungle. Right, _safe._

Familiar, Summer had meant. Familiarity was good. With familiarity came the feeling and false perception of safeness. Summer had always though she was safe being alone, safe living in a forest, safe continuing this lifestyle of hers.

Of course, deep inside, she knew it wasn’t exactly safety, but hey, at this point, it was established that Summer would take what she could get, right? Even if it meant lying to herself?

Summer scratched her head angrily as she thought about the dream again.

Trust has never been Summer’s strong suit, and according to the dream, that was good, but still. Should Summer tell them about what she heard? It was the right thing to do.

But if she did tell them, what if she would be the one responsible for deaths? What if she was listed as an ally for an anti-government organization or something? Summer knew it was silly to use such a dramatic scenario, but she was starting to think anything was possible.

Yet, if she didn’t… if she didn’t say anything, the same thing could happen as well.

A bitter smile rose upon her face. Now _this_ was more like the Summer she had grown to hate.

Summer groaned as she remembered it was a Wednesday. Damn. Jim and Cottie were having a party today. A good swig of that cheap whiskey would do her some good right now.

\--

Summer had nearly fallen asleep when the door whirred again, signalling it has been unlocked. She groggily sat up and turned to see who it was, only to feel her mouth dry at the sight in front of her.

She struggled to get on her feet, eyes wide as she blinked at the person, or should she say, 200 pounds of pure muscles.

“C-Captain America,” She breathed out in a confused tone.

The blonde blushed lightly, giving a shy and polite smiled. “Hi. Please. Sit,” He gestured before moving to the other chair. “And, also, Steve is fine.”

“Huh?” Summer asked, still a little shocked at the fact that a fucking superhero, _Captain fucking America,_ was there, right in front of her. What? How? No. This can’t be real. Summer was almost tempted to reach out and grab his biceps to make sure if he’s real.

“Call me Steve, I mean, it’s less… intimidating.” He repeated, still smiling. Summer was dumbfounded. He looked so nice and kind, not like the aggressive man he was when he was fighting off bad guys in those clips they showed in the museum.

“I-I can’t.” Summer sounded horrified. Captain America let out a small chuckle.

“Please, I’d be more comfortable.”

“Okay… if you insist.” Summer coughed, “Steve.” She murmured quickly.

 _Steve_ beamed. “Much better. Thank you. Since you already know me, do I have the honour of getting your name?”

“Summer. I’m Summer.” She managed to say without stammering all over the place, slightly baffled by his polite and gentlemanly tone. “Wow. Okay. You know my name now. Hi.”

Captain—Steve chuckled. “So, you know me, huh? I heard you didn’t know the rest of the Avengers.”

“The orphanage, when Aunt Bea was in charge, used to always bring us to your Smithsonian exhibition during, uh, your birthday.” Summer scratched the top of her head, still uncertain how to act in front of a national treasure. “Um, I don’t really know about the Avengers, though, sorry. If that means something to you…”

“Orphanage?” Steve asked softly instead.

“Uh, yeah.” Summer shrugged, brushing it off casually. “Born, well not really… Raised,” She corrected. “In Bea’s Home for Children.”

“I-I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, don’t be. It wasn’t that bad, when Bea was around.” Summer realized her slip. She wasn’t supposed to make people pity her. “Not that it was awful afterwards. Just… she was kind of like a mom, not really cos she was kind of like a mom for several… Never mind.”

Steve just nodded quietly before picking up the paper in front of him, eyes scanning through the handwriting. Summer gulped. _Oh no._ She can’t possibly lie to Captain America?

“I know you’re finding it hard to believe you’re with the good guys,” Steve winced a little. “S.H.I.E.L.D. can be a little harsh and cold and not exactly what you’d like to wake up to… but would it help if I told you, S.H.I.E.L.D. is really on the good side?”

Summer’s blinked. Captain America’s words should be enough to reassure Summer that everything was okay, that she was safe but…

The mind kept reminding her about the dream, about what the man had said.

“I’m sorry,” Summer said slowly. “I believe it is, but I still… I don’t think I can tell you about what happened… Maybe after a bit, I could, but right now… I need… time?”

Captain America smiled, surprisingly alright with Summer’s decision and nodded. “It’s fine, Summer.” He gestured to the paper. “How about you tell me why you were in the forest instead?”

Summer bit on her lip and slowly nodded. She liked this. She liked someone being gentle to her.

Her head went back to the man.

 _Stop it,_ She scowled. _Have you forgotten what a dick he was?_

Summer tapped on her lap as she avoided Steve’s baby blue eyes. “I, uh, was bathing?”

Steve frowned. Confused looked so adorable on him, but Summer decided against mentioning it to the Captain of the freaking America. “In the river? In that weather? Don’t you have a bathroom at home? Oh… or were you just having some fun?”

Summer gave a wry smile. “I don’t have a home.” She winced as she realized she was sounding pitiful again. “Well, I live in a hut in the forest, and the lake’s my cleanest source of water, unless I want to use the bathroom at the public pool, which was closed at the hour…” She noticed the look on Steve’s face.

“You live in a hut?”

“It’s hard to explain.” Summer gulped, nervous all of a sudden. She was a fucking thief, for God’s sake, sitting in front of the epitome of justice and righteousness. “You know, I really think you guys should let me go… home,” she laughed awkwardly. “I really am no help here…”

“Summer’s right, she’s not helping.”

Summer turned around and glared at Mr Barnes, still angry at him for being such an asshole.

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice sounded from behind Summer. “If she really did hear the conversation, and Hydra saw her face, you know… she’s not safe.”

The man, _Bucky,_ sighed and rubbed his eye, obviously unable to argue with Captain America.

“But we have no proof she’s not aiding them. We don’t have documents on her, and the facial scan didn’t help either—”

“Good.” Summer interjected.

“And she’s not even willing to give us her last name.” He ended, hissing softly to Steve even though Summer could obviously hear them.

“I don’t have one!” Summer exclaimed. “I mentioned that!”

“I thought you were better at lying.” He said in an unimpressed tone.

“I’m not!” Summer defended.

He snorted softly. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Okay, listen here, you asshole!” Summer snapped, eyes stinging, “I’m terribly sorry I just so happen to not have a last name because my fucking parents left me before I could politely ask them what it was, okay? I’m fucking sorry no one bothered to register me as a human in the United fucking States, _so_ fucking sorry, okay? Now fuck you, and just let me go home!”

Summer was sniffling at the end and she angrily rubbed at her eyes. The room was quiet now except for her soft angry sobs and sharp inhales.

“Bucky,” Steve went over to Bucky and murmured something lowly. Bucky sounded like he was going to argue when Steve said something else. Summer was still trying to stop crying.

Stupid fucking shit. Now they probably think she was some sort of unstable idiot. Well, at least maybe that’ll make them let her go?

Summer almost wanted to laugh. She never knew that a day would come where she’d miss that shit of a home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, whatya think? All my stuff are unbeta-ed so if you have anything to point out, let me know!
> 
> I've never had someone to beta my stuff; that'd be so cool? :O
> 
> Let the hate love angsty romance begin! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated <3
> 
> Love you, have a good day!


	4. Chapter Four: Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky likes Summer. There. He's said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Here's the fourth chapter! Enjoy!  
> P.S. this is unbeta'ed  
> P.P.S the end note is crazy, don't bother reading it if you'd like to steer clear from my craziness.  
> P.P.P.S. Don't forget today (11/11) is Veteran's day! My thoughts go out to every single one of them. I am so amazed and empowered by their bravery.

Bucky gave Natasha a sideway glance as she joining Bucky in his stride into the Helicarrier. He silently wondered how she still looked flawless, while absentmindedly fixing his arms, keeping them locked loosely but protectively around the small figure in his hold.

“She’s pretty,” Natasha commented.

Surprised, Bucky looked down, not quite sure she was being serious.

It wasn’t that the girl was ugly. She… could pass as decent-looking. Easy on the eyes. And sure, she could be somewhat pretty, but that is if you disregarded the dirt on her skin, the dryness of her lips and hair and the boniness of her structure.

Alright. She just wasn’t exactly the norm for pretty, that’s all.

But yet…

Bucky tilted his head, looking at the way her lips parted (was that drool?) while gentle lashes rested against cheeks flushed in a sweet shade of pink. He was too aware of the small hands curling against his chest, and he swore he could almost feel her soft feathery fingers brushing over his tactical vest.

Yet she was… magnetizing, in a strange way. She was plain, average, but… bewitching, yet not manipulatively so. She had a passing sort of face that… stayed?

 _Oh God_ , she was screwing Bucky’s mind in.

“She’s useful,” Bucky corrected after a moment, finally able to tear his eyes away from the girl. He ignored Natasha’s curious stare. “And also questionable.”

“You think she’s with another agency?” Natasha asked as she peered over the unconscious body. “She’s not armed, though.”

“Maybe to throw us off,” Bucky suggested as they walked in the direction of the medical quarters. The girl shifted in his hands and he dropped his eyes, making sure his metal arm wasn’t hurting her. Or against her skin.

He didn’t want her to catch a cold.

For strictly professional reasons, of course. Having the witness sick wouldn’t be optimal for questioning, would it?

“Did she fight back? Or say anything suspicious?” Natasha inquired.

“No,” Bucky said. “But again, maybe to throw us off.” He added lowly after a moment in Russian, in case she was feigning unconsciousness. _“Set up an interrogation and psychoanalysis. She could either give us useful information or confirm our suspicions.”_

Natasha pondered over it before nodding. “I’ll let Phil know.”

\---

Bucky gently lowered the girl down onto the bed, making sure her head was cushioned by the soft pillow. He watched as her matted hair fanned out around her face while she let out a soft snivel. She looked younger when she was unconscious. More fragile and defenceless too.

Which really wasn’t helping Bucky out.

It wasn’t like a _kink_ or anything like that. Bucky just always had a soft spot for people who always acted tough even though they just plainly weren’t.

Maybe it started with Steve. The little idiot was always biting off more than he could chew, constantly flinging around his 90 pounds of illnesses at bullies. Bucky was certain half of the 90 pounds were made up by his sheer will to do good, and the other half was the weight of his golden heart.

Point was, Bucky always had a weakness for people like that: small, but fierce; filled fear and vulnerability but kept it hidden behind piercing eyes and sharp tongues. It’s not that Bucky enjoyed it because they were small and fragile and easy to order around, but he liked it when he could protect them.

More so, when they allowed themselves to be protected by him.

Steve, the punk, never allowed himself to be protected, hated having someone else fight his fights, always still acting macho when he was stuck in bed with fucking pneumonia, but with Bucky, he’d willingly allowed himself to show his fear, always allowed the older guy to finish his fights (albeit grudgingly).

Bucky quietly pushed away a strand of hair from her face, savouring the soft content mewl she made as he did. As she pushed her head unconsciously towards his warm hands, he wondered why he was hoping she would be the same—would make an exception for Bucky and let him protect her and keep her safe and—

Oh God. Or _was_ it a kink? Bucky didn’t know anymore. Tony Stark was polluting him.

Bucky shut his eyes and rubbed it tiredly. Maybe he just needed to get laid? Maybe Natasha was right?

God forbid she heard about that. Little spitfire has got an ego that wasn’t dwarfed in the presence of Tony’s.

Also, Bucky was pretty sure she had a list of girls she was waiting to introduce to Bucky. If she hadn’t been so good at kicking people’s asses, she’d probably be Cupid’s (cruder) right hand out of utter passion for hooking people up.

He straightened his back, releasing his hand from the girl’s hair (did her eyes just furrow in discontent? No. Bucky was overthinking things, Bucky was making something, _everything,_ out of literally nothing. _Did she actually yearn for you_ —of course not! Bucky. _Bucky._ Get yourself together—but, oh my _God,_ she looked downright adorable when she sniffled—okay?) as he heard a nurse walking in. (Composure.)

“Good evening, Mr Barnes,” She immediately greeted politely, a soft surprise in her voice.

Bucky just smiled politely at her astonishment. Bucky Barnes was as much of a ghost as the Winter Soldier was. He rarely came out of his quarters, and even though he’s been hanging around S.H.I.E.L.D. for some time now, rumours were the only things affiliated to him.

His personal favourite was that he was a hologram produced by Stark to hide the fact that he’d kill the soldier accidentally out of one of his anger episodes.

Bucky let out a soft cough and gestured to the girl quietly, eyes avoiding the nurse’s. Communication with people he wasn’t quite familiar with was still a little difficult, and he had been trying to work on it by buying groceries himself at the mall down the road without a cap ( _Cap_ was always shadowing him though, much to Bucky’s discomfort). He peered up at the nurse who was pottering about with her clipboard.

He cleared his throat and tried with a gentle and polite voice, hoping it didn’t come out too rough or mean.

“She passed out. Panic attack, I think.” He glanced at her dirty skin, covered with dirt and grass. “Can you clean her up? Might have some physical wounds needed to be assessed as well.”

“Sure,” The nurse was working on hooking her up to monitor her vitals. “Anything that should be noted, Agent?”

 _Agent._ So he was one of those now?

The idea scared him a little. He didn’t exactly want to… belong to anything yet. Maybe in the future, when he had made sure that it was him in his head, him in his mind.

“Have a doctor look over her, please.” Bucky finally said. “Ask if she should be under medication. We need her to be up and running by morning. Further orders are to be made.” Bucky said before realizing his commanding tone. “Please,” he added after a beat in a much softer voice.

The nurse smiled, mirth filling her eyes. Bucky felt a little embarrassed. The Bucky before the war could probably flirt a nun’s skirt off, but now he spoke to a dame as awful as Steve once had been. He supposed even though the Winter Soldier had many talents, sex appeal or seduction hadn’t been one.

(Though many would beg to differ.)

“Duly noted, Mr Barnes,” The nurse giggled lightly.

Bucky was about to turn and leave when he paused.

And then he flashed her a small, bashful smile in return, head tilted down and eyes peeking through long lashes that framed those gorgeous blues. He bit down on his lip a little without thinking, letting his body do the work, like it was muscle memory.

He was slightly pleased to see her blush from it.

Maybe he still had some of it after all.

\--

Bucky slid down on the seat, next to Natasha. He was out of his gear now, wearing a long sleeved black shirt (he was still a little wary about his metal arm and its literal flashiness) and dark jeans, hair in a low bun.

“We couldn’t find anything on her,” Coulson announced, tugging on his tie tiredly. It was late; they had just arrived back at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. Bucky rose an eyebrow at the statement. “We’ve run her face through the database, not a single legal file on her. She may just be a bigger threat than we thought.”

“So she might not be US?” Natasha leaned back on her seat.

“Maybe,” Coulson nodded.  “Maybe she’s undercover, working with another organization, who’s either after Hydra, or us.” He turned to Bucky. “Barnes. Did she say anything when you found her?”

“Not much,” Bucky shifted. “She was crying and screaming when the other agent tried to cuff her.”

“Why fake that though?” Natasha hummed. “For mobility? Sympathy?”

“We’re looking into it. We’ll inform you if anything comes up. Anyway,” Coulson coughed. “Thank you for joining our mission today.”

“Was bored,” Natasha shrugged. “This sounded fun.”

“Well, you’ve had your fix, adrenaline junky. Thank you too, Barnes, I know a field mission can be a little difficult given your position.”

Bucky kept quiet, offering a nod. Natasha silently placed a hand on his thigh soothingly. Bucky appreciated it.

Truth be told, he was still a little shaky to have his hands around a gun like that, a Skorpion. It’s been a long while.

Longer yet to have the trigger being pressed down by his right hand.

“We’ll be having an interrogation later on with the civilian.” Coulson notified as they began to leave. “Anything to note, Barnes? You were with her the longest. Speech patterns? Tactics?”

Bucky paused, back still facing Coulson. “I suggest a female interrogator.” He said curtly before leaving the room, Natasha by his side, who wasn’t really trying to hide the amused smile on her face.

\--

“I’m not sure if you’re just being adorable or cocky about this,” Natasha blinked, looking away from her glass of bourbon which she had been swirling about for the last ten minutes of Bucky trying to word his suspicions. “A honey trap? You think so?”

Bucky hid his blush with a scowl. “I’m just saying that it’s a possibility.”

“Hm.” Natasha furrowed her eyebrow. “Why’d you think so?”

Bucky sighed, wincing as he downed the rest of his glass. _Liquid courage._ “’cos... I think she’s attractive and… cute?” He winced.

“Oh wow.” Natasha deadpanned. “Is it impossible for you to feel attraction or something? I know you’re not Ace cos, God, I’ve heard those girls sing fucking Hallelujah to your apparent skills in bed.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, a blush rising up his neck. “No, but… you’ve seen her. She isn’t exactly a bombshell… Maybe she’s doing some… I don’t know, voodoo?”

This time Natasha rolled her eyes. “Boys. I can never tell if they’re just dumb or drunk.” Natasha shifted so she was sitting on legs, facing Bucky. “But… I see your point. You’ve not shown one ounce of romantic interest in the drop-dead sexy girls who I have literally died to get a hold of.”

“I thought bargaining with death would come with a price, like, I don’t know, actually _aging,_ for God’s sake.”

“You’re one to speak, Barnes.” Natasha said as she tapped on her chin distractedly.

“Maybe it’s a Russian thing.”

“Okay, how about this,” Natasha suggested suddenly, setting her drink down. “Make the interrogator a guy, a decent looking one, and then see how she acts around him. See if she’s just always like that, or only towards you. And then you go ahead and talk to her, and let me do the work. The Black Widow recognizes seduction when she sees it.” She winked.

“I’m honoured you think she won’t manage to successfully woo me before you do your observation,” Bucky said, just a little bit miserably as he played with the ice cubes in his drink. “I don’t know, maybe this’ll all be gone in the morning, and it was like, oxytocin or something.”

 “Oh wow, oxytocin level? That’s when a spy knows they’re really into someone.” Natasha mused. “So; you’re really into her.”

“Just a little bit,” Bucky murmured quietly, looking down at his lap.

Bucky wasn’t all too sure why he was freaking out like this. It was normal, right? To see a girl and think they’re good looking and be attracted to them? The Bucky from before the war would for sure not be at all flustered. Heck, he’d probably slick his hair back, put on some of his dancing shoes, and went straight to the lady and ask for a dance.

As much as he hated to face it, though, he wasn’t that Bucky anymore.

He wasn’t the Bucky of the 30s, and he’d come to understand he’d never fully be. And no matter what, a part of the Winter Soldier, the man he was for 70 years, would always own a piece of him.

He was still trying to find who he was, who he had become.

Apparently, he’d become an absolute wimp.

“She’s pretty cute, I guess. I can see the appeal.” Natasha pointed out. “The kind you want to roll up in a comforter and snuggle with and protect.”

“Exactly!” Bucky clapped his hand together in amazement of Natasha’s spot on description. And then he noticed Natasha was looking at him wide eyed and surprised at his outburst. He blushed, the heat spreading all over his face as he retreated back to his place against the arm of the sofa. He dodged Natasha’s laser beam stare and gulped down the whiskey instead.

“Hm.”

He buried his head in his hand. “Oh God. Don’t make me talk to her again.” He peeked up. “I won’t make it.”

“I mean, if she can do what even a Widow can’t… props to her,” Natasha said.

“Wait till Bruce hears that,” He snorted softly. Natasha sobered up at the sound of the scientist’s name immediately and Bucky frowned. “What? What did Banner do?”

The redhead sighed, looking out the window at the city lights. “That’s the thing,” she mumbled. “I don’t know. He hasn’t reached out to me in a week now.” She said quietly.

Bucky placed a hand on Natasha’s back, rubbing comfortingly through the soft fabric of her sweater. “Maybe he’s just working on something, you know how he gets when he has a project…” Bucky tried.

“I know, I know.” She said dejectedly before groaning, “I know I’m sometimes asking for too much, but… God damn it, I’m so jealous of Clint!” Natasha let out a huff, knocking her head back against the sofa. “I want a family too,” she added quietly. “Have a house away from the city, breathe fresh air every morning and maybe even tend to my own garden…” She closed her eyes at the wishful dream.

Bucky sighed and took her hand, gently rubbing it and kissing her knuckles softly.

“Natashen'ka,” He breathed the endearing nickname softly, allowing his Russian accent to show through, knowing it comforted her. “From the short while I’ve known Bruce, he’s shown that he loved you more than anything else. Guy’s eyes shine when he’s with you. Even, what does he call it, the other guy loves you. He’ll come back to you.”

Natasha flashed one of those genuine smiles she reserved for those really close. Bucky was grateful he was part of that circle. Natasha’s friendship was something he treasured greatly.

“Thanks,” She leaned against her fellow ex-Soviet. “You know, if she wasn’t a honey trap but another girl who’s genuinely flustered in your presence, she’d be an incredibly lucky girl.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s been decades since I’ve chased a girl.” He retorted. “I doubt seeing me awkwardly trying to pursue her would exactly make her lucky.”

“Trust me,” Natasha said. “That would just make her love you more.”

Bucky watched amused as she cracked her neck and stretched out her legs, not bothering to refute anything as she leaned over and pecked Bucky on the cheek. “Get some rest.”

\--

Except he couldn’t.

Bucky laid awake on his bed, eyes blinking up at his ceiling, metal arm stretched out while his flesh one was tucked under his head. Sometimes it still felt foreign to have velvety softness against his bare back. He wasn’t used to beds.

But the loneliness, that he was well associated with.

Bucky wondered about the last time he’d gone on a date. He smiled faintly at the memory of the Stark expo. And Steve. And then dancing.

 _Dancing._ God knows how long it’s been since he’s danced.

And dancing with pretty young things, too. Twirling them around, kissing the back of their hands while smiling mischievously. Bucky could still hear the swing and jazz music he swayed his body to, and the small waist in his big hands as they danced. Boy, could that one girl dance. They danced through the whole night. She was gorgeous, could tap dance her little feet like Ginger Rogers and he Fred Astaire.

Bless Bucky’s soul, he was truthfully only 29 years old biologically, with what being in cryo for years and broken down relentlessly. People often forgot he and Steve weren’t really that old, in terms of science and their bodies. They’d missed out on a lot of life experience.

Especially Bucky. While Steve was out of the ice and rebuilding his life, Bucky had this torn down over and over and _over…_ And every single time he’d been naïve enough to think he’d been free, he

Bucky ran his hand over the soft material of his blanket. Stark said something about 1200 thread count or whatever that meant. Egyptian material. Bucky thought he’d been in Egypt once to kill an influential court member, maybe.

He shut his eyes tightly.

He thought about the girl, about her small shivering body against his. She had been suffering, he could tell from the thinness of her frame. He grimaced as he wondered if it was possible that Hydra had actually tortured her, used her.

He made a whining sound at the cruel memories.

They used to starve him. And for years, he was fed through IV drips. He was never allowed to ask questions accept for the mission parameters. They beat him like it was a game. See who’d make him black out.

Not that he would. He healed too quickly, and was too alert to really pass out from anything.

But that was the fun. The impossibility in it.

“There’s our Winter,” They cooed and cackled as he cried soundlessly, unable to withstand the whips on his back.

God forbid if they did anything remotely similar to the girl.

He clenched his fists tight before releasing them, telling himself he was overthinking things.

The girl could be an enemy like he had predicted, for all he knows. But Bucky wanted to believe that she wasn’t.

Maybe he was selfish. Maybe he was being greedy, wanting to have her as his, if she let so. Bucky wished to cherish her and buy her sweet things, and wake up with her small hands and lazy smiles. Bucky told himself it was just the idea of being in a relationship, maybe.

But every time he pictured it, it was her face she saw.

Bucky had been trying to get into a relationship for a while now, actually. Thought it may be good, to have a girl to spoil and love, be it for a short while. Plus, Natasha actually seemed to enjoy seeing her friends in love and happy. But he could just never see himself with the other girl.

He’d apologize as he sent them home or bid them goodnight, but he didn’t really find it in his heart to feel truly apologetic, because he had grown (to Steve’s joy) to understand his needs are just as important as others.

Goodness knows how long it took and how many (manly) tears were shed before Steve could finally teach him that it was okay to want to cower and put himself first. It was tough, putting that mind set in him. He had to admit, it still wasn’t perfectly ingrained in him. How could it, when 70 years were taken from him to remove that very mentality?

But this girl… this brown haired stranger… Bucky could see her in his bed, in his clothes, in his arms. And he could see himself letting it all happen with a peaceful smile.

He groaned and flipped over, smacking his face into the stupid Egyptian pillow filled with stupid golden feathers or something.

17 anti-terrorists organizations after him, 34 countries that denied his entrance and even more countless bounties placed on his head, yet this girl that he didn’t even know the name of was going to be the one that kills him.

(Is it horrible that he’d let her?)

(No. No it wasn’t.)

\---

It was early morning when the girl woke up. Bucky answered Natasha’s call on the first ring and told her he’d be there in 5 minutes. He put on his shirt and headed to the interrogation room. It was barely 5 o clock, but it wasn’t like he was getting any sleep anyway.

His heart stuttered in his chest as he caught a glimpse of the girl on the monitor. Natasha flashed him a smug looking grin, making him roll his eyes and sit down on his assigned seat.

Bucky frowned, leaning back on his chair as the two of them watched the girl, _Summer,_ talk to Mr Brown.

Now that she was in more fitted clothes, Bucky noticed just how malnourished she was. If you strained hard enough, you could count her protruding ribs.

He was concerned because her body wasn’t the skinny type. Unlike Steve, who was skinny because he was ill, and was pretty much just generally small. But this girl wasn’t. She had a nice physique, with beautiful curves and long legs, but her bones were covered with too little flesh.

Looks aside, Summer was acting quite professionally, and civilly for a person who didn’t really know where she was, he noted.

“She’s on Xanax to stabilize her moods,” Natasha then said, as if sensing Bucky’s thoughts. “But so far, she doesn’t seem to be acting suspicious…”

Bucky agreed. Summer looked genuinely scared and confused.

His heart jumped in his chest at the idea. So… his feelings… they were real? He swallowed thickly.

When the interrogator brought up Bucky, he was a little disappointed at his self-restraint when he leaned in a little closer to see Summer’s response. Natasha noticed too, giving him a smug look. He tried to inconspicuously shuffle back into his seat and shy away from the Russian’s laser beam eyes.

“Go in,” Natasha murmured, hitting his arm. “Now.”

Bucky did as he was told, stiffly standing up from his seat and brushing down his jeans. He pushed down his nerves. He breathed through his nose, calming himself.

It was just a girl. A suspect, at that.

_Breathe. You’re fine._

_God,_ he thought and almost laughed at how… _young,_ and _normal_ this feeling felt. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this way. First, in fact, since Hydra.

He nodded to himself and twisted the door knob silently, sliding into the room without the single hint of a sound and leaned against the back of the room and watched Summer for a bit more.

Bucky frowned. Had she noticed his presence already? She was already beginning to act differently, more flustered. Bucky was as silent as a ghost, though. Maybe she was more trained than Bucky had pegged her to be.

“…Thank him for me?” He caught the end of her sentence.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said curtly as he stepped out of the shadows and allowed his footsteps to be heavy enough so it was heard. Mr Brown looked up and stood up immediately.

“Oh, thank you for joining us, Mr Barnes,” He greeted, eyes a little wide. “I was told you were busy…”

“I wasn’t told what it was about. Who it was about.” he shrugged. “Would you mind if I take a couple of moments with… Summer?”

Saying her name out loud felt… strange. The syllables felt oddly right on his tongue, the name vibrated pleasantly against his throat…

Bucky tried to disregard the way Summer shivered upon hearing it.

Mr Brown laughed awkwardly. “Of course, Mr Barnes. I’ll give you guys five—”

“Ten,” Bucky cut in.

“Ten minutes. Right,” He said and then left the room hurriedly, a little intimidated to be in the Winter Soldier’s breathing space.

Summer didn’t seem to mind, though.

 _Cos she’s a spy,_ Bucky’s mind reminded himself and he nodded, breathing in deeply but softly as he made his way to the seat. _That, or she doesn’t know who you are yet…_

He wasn’t quiet too sure which idea he’d prefer.

As he sat down, he watched Summer’s eyes sinfully and slowly drag upwards, eyes gradually trailing up, resting for more than a second on his broad chest. He tried not to shift self-consciously.

Bucky breathed slowly as their eyes met.

Her eyes were as average as it goes, yet it still managed to look so outstanding against her pale skin. The rich brown reminded Bucky of warmth and hot chocolate, and… _home._ They felt so familiar, like Bucky had lived in them since forever. And Bucky’s heart struggled to cope as he realized he wanted to live in them for the rest of forever.

He practically had to force his head down before he melted from the warmth of her curious stare.

He cleared his throat. “You said you were walking in the forest,” He began, lowering a voice a little so she wouldn’t notice the shakiness.

He looked back up and noticed Summer was still staring at him. He raised an eyebrow and she harrumphed lightly (while making the most downright adorable face ever) and crossed her arms, pressing against—

_Jesus Christ._

Bucky gulped, eyes darting away immediately before shaking his head internally.

_Get yourself together._

“Yeah,” She stammered out finally. Bucky watched, slightly amused, as she tilted her chin up in defiance. _Little spitfire_ , he thought. “Why? You don’t believe me?”

“Well, I’m not a fucking idiot,” Bucky said. He was looking right at Summer now. His words held a different meaning behind them, and he wondered if she would notice.

She didn’t. Or maybe she was a good actress. Or just misunderstood.

Was it selfish Bucky was crossing fingers for the last option? He chided himself inwardly. Her being related to Hydra would be helpful. They could maybe get information.

His blood ran cold as he wondered if she had a cyanide capsule on her.

Before he could get angry at the thought, she had blinked up at Bucky, eyes bright and lips parted. “That’s not very nice to Alex,” She commented, and then _she licked her lips_. Bucky’s eyes were scandalously transfixed the pink tongue darting out of her small mouth, carefully running the tip over dried lips, wetting them as her teeth grazed lightly against them.

 _Had she no shame?_ Bucky clenched his fist, throat dry, and made himself look away before anything embarrassing happened.

“Well,” He managed to say without cracking. “Who ever said I was nice?”

Summer paused as if uncertain how to continue. Now this was good. This was it. Bucky needed to play unaffected, needed to pretend like whatever the hell she was doing wasn’t making his palms sweat and heart jump because _God,_ it did, _it did._

Summer’s hand slowly dropped down to her lap, getting her act back together. “Well,” She began softly and a little confused, and the sound made Bucky’s head and heart hurt. “Y-you were nice to me?” She stuttered, blinking up at Bucky.

Bucky nearly groaned as she did that, as she bit down on her lip nervously and a little fearfully, while looking up shyly through those curled lashes.

Yeah, no. She was a honey trap. He needed to get out of there. Lord save his soul, he didn’t deserve this.

Everything she was doing, through her kitten licks to furrowed eyebrows, was getting on Bucky’s skin in such a dizzyingly pleasant way, and she seemed to have located every single one of his weakness and toyed with them unforgivingly. Bucky needed out, because it felt _good, too good._

And thing was, it stung a little, because it couldn’t be _coincidence_ that she had folded her arms only to press up her breasts, _coincidence_ she was wearing torturously see-through white on black undergarments.

It was not fucking _coincidence_ that she was looking so sweet and fragile the same time she was looking so firm with eyes so hard and curious, making Bucky feel like she did not need his protection, but _guess what,_ he was going to give it anyway.

Oh fuck. Fuck her and her mind games. It stung because the first time Bucky’s felt like this for years now, was for a girl who saw it as a mission, a game.

 _“Say something harsh, see how she reacts,”_ Natasha whispered through Bucky’s forgotten comms.

Bucky swallowed and did as he was told.

“That’s your idea of nice? I was carrying out a duty, Summer, not an act of kindness.” He continued before he could allow himself to dwell on the flash of hurt and something else in her eyes. “And, no, Alex wasn’t stupid. Of course, he noted here you were lying.”

It was obvious she did too. Maybe she just wasn’t particularly well at lying with words (she could lie through those eyes so well though?) or maybe… she wanted them to know she was lying.

To get extra time with Bucky?

“Huh?” Summer asked in such a genuinely confused tone. “What do you mean?”

“About walking in the forest,” Bucky said impatiently, hoping he could leave soon. He felt like the walls were closing in on him. Well, him and _her._ “Mr Brown wrote here—lied about reason for being in forest,” He pointed at the text. Summer was feigning confusion now. “Don’t bother.” He said, tone harsher than intended. “I may just be keener towards speech patterns, but Mr Brown is a professional psychologist and interrogator.”

“Wait, excuse me?”

Now, she seriously sounded shocked. So she didn’t notice. How terrible if she really wasn’t what they were assuming she was. “This is an interrogation and analysis,” He said slowly. “Have you not picked up on that? Hmm… you’re certainly not the smartest.” He then murmured, “I wondered why they chose you…”

He looked up. Summer was chewing on her lips as her eyebrows furrowed, making them redder than before.

_Right._

And then suddenly, before Bucky could saying something else, Summer snapped her head up and glared at him.

Shit. Bucky should _not_ be turned on a little by that.

There was something wrong with him. God, it was like he was a teenager or something again.

“How dare you!” She exclaimed and Bucky noticed how seriously angry she was looking and frowned, snapping out of his ridiculous daze. God, she was so good. “You could’ve told me, at least!”

“And then you’d do it willingly?”

“Maybe not, but still!” She glared furiously up at him. She furrowed her eyebrows deeply, and her brown eyes were filled with rage. He wondered how it would be like soothing her and rubbing circles over her back until she calmed down.

And then suddenly, Bucky frowned. He really shouldn’t be thinking this. If she really was… a trap… It would kill Bucky to let go of this illogical feelings.

He should let go before it got too hard. Before he got too attached.

Because, truth was, he liked it here. He liked S.H.I.E.L.D. and he liked being surrounded by people who weren’t treating him too much like porcelain. He liked the security it offered and he liked slowly rediscovering himself and… and fucking _healing_ in a good environment like this.

So damn himself for being selfish, but he needed S.H.I.E.L.D. and he needed the Avengers.

He needed himself to do this.

He looked at the fuming girl and sighed softly. o

It was… nice while it lasted, he supposed. She made him feel like a young boy again, wondering how to woo the girl for a dance and a drink.

Bucky was never good at breaking ties, so he allowed the other guy in his head to show through for a short moment. Emotionlessly, he slammed his bionic arm down on the table and watched as it cracked in the middle.

 _“James?”_ Natasha asked worriedly. Bucky allowed his eyes to dart to the camera as an assurance that it was still him.

Summer gasped at the suddenness of the strike, stunned and Bucky allowed the coldness to wash over him, washing away any emotion in his eyes.

But not the emotion in his heart.

But that was okay. He’s learned how to control it. Learned how to never show any pain, or any fear.

Apparently Summer hadn’t been trained using methods as cruel as his. Her eyes shone bright with fear. Bucky almost dropped his act at the sight, until he remembered that it was _her_ act.

But the fear was real. Bucky may be able to mistake every other emotion that passed through the actress’s eyes, could be fooled by her pretence, but fear was the one thing he could always recognize.

He was after, made to elicit that very emotion.

“Listen, Summer,” Bucky said calmly. “You can play dumb all you want, and keep playing your games. But don’t forget what we can do… we can force you.”

Bucky felt a horrible saying what he did, and he chided himself to feel nothing at all as Summer blinked up at him with those brown eyes. The fear was still bright in her eyes and as much as she tried to hide it, Bucky could see them even in the deep brownness. She struggled to keep up a straight face, struggled to keep the fear hidden.

The look made Bucky almost want to drop his coldness and kiss her forehead and apologize sweetly to her.

 _But this isn’t real,_ Bucky said, the voice in his head sounding bitter.

So, with a heavy heart, he continued.

“And really, you owe your life to me,” he reminded. “So, tell me, what did you hear?”

Summer shakily brought his chin up again, lips quivering. It hurt him to see her try to be so strong when she was already so broken. Oh God, what had he done? “I said just now,” she managed with a steady voice, and Bucky realized it was from years of practice. “I didn’t hear anything. The wind was loud and the crickets—”

“Crickets don’t survive in the winter.” He and the voice in his earpiece said at the same time. “Crack a book when you try to lie, at least.”

There was a long pause and Bucky looked at Summer. He frowned as he noticed that her eyes were bleak and watery.

 _“She must have gotten off of the Xanax,”_ Natasha hummed.

He sighed, finally feeling slightly pity for her, just remembering she was put on Xanax to stabilize her mood. He knew from first-hand experience that the aftereffects of the drugs weren’t pleasant.

“Your Xanax must be wearing off.” He said wearily, feeling a little tired from his rush of anger. “Would you like some more?”

“Excuse me?” Summer asked. Oh. She must not have known she was on it.

“As much as I would like to think you can out up with your own emotions, we both know you can’t.” He said, not noticing how harsh it came out until Summer winced a little. He paused. “So, would you like some Xanax to help?”

“No,” She replied curtly.

“Okay.” Bucky said. “Now, can you please tell me what happened? It’d mean a lot to us. A lot to me,” He tried.

Summer closed her eyes. “I don’t even know who us is,” She said, voice laced with frustration and confusion. “Or who you are! Where in hell am I even?”

Yeah right, like Bucky would believe that.

_“Try telling her the truth, see how she’ll respond.”_

“S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Bucky told her. She looked up without a hint of recognition in her eyes. Even civilians were supposed to know a little about S.H.I.E.L.D. and how it was an organization to fight against crime. He frowned. “You don’t know S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Am I supposed to?” She asked, voice weary.

Bucky hummed softly under his breath. “Okay then,” He said. “Alright, what about the Avengers?” For sure she would know this one. She’d have to. It’d be ridiculous to pretend not to. Yet she kept the confused façade up? “Falcon? Hawkeye Iron Man? Captain America?”

“Oh,” Summer’s eyes glinted with recognition at the last. “I know that one. But what does he have to do with any of this? He’s a superhero.”

Bucky blinked, almost smiling at her wide eyes.

She looked… so honest. So childlike too.

_“Hey, Barnes, as offended as I am for you not mentioning Black Widow, can you come out for a sec? Let’s discuss this.”_

He nodded. He wasn’t sure what do anymore anyway.

“I’ll be back,” He said. Summer’s head snapped up, washed away from all the previous weariness and anger.

“W-wait, are you going?” She stuttered. Her eyes alone were enough to make Bucky stay. “Aren’t you afraid I’d escape,” She added later.

Bucky smiled, amused. “You? Escape? I’d love to see you try.”

With that, he forced himself to walk away without another sparing glance, knowing if he did, he wouldn’t have the willpower to leave.

His heart hurt when he saw through the cameras in place that Summer finally allowed the tears to wash over her cheeks, finally letting go of her brave front. God how he wished he could run back inside and wipe away her tears away and then tell her he didn’t mean what he said.

It was when Natasha gave Bucky a look when it struck him that Summer might not be genuine about her attraction, but Bucky sure as hell was.

\---

“Maybe her mission was to do with Captain America. That’s why she said she recognized him.” Natasha offered.

“Good point.” He nodded.

“Or maybe she’s just normal, like she claimed to be,” Natasha trailed off, giving Bucky a look.

“Let’s not take the risk,” Bucky hardened. Natasha sighed and rubbed Bucky’s tense shoulders.

“Bucky, if anything happens, it’s not your fault. Know that,” Natasha said softly as she kneaded the hard muscles.

“I like her, Natasha,” Bucky said weakly.

“You say that like it’s a sin, James,” Natasha laughed. “Oh, you poor thing. You can like people, James, it’s perfectly normal.”

“Not when you’re me, no,” Bucky argued. “I’m… I’m not supposed to. What if she ends up being Hydra, and we crash and burn, again, and because of me, _again?_ And even if she wasn’t…” He sighed and left it at that. Natasha wasn’t having any of it.

“Hey,” She scolded and hit him hard. He whined , rubbing his arm. It hurt. She never pulled on her stinging slaps. “You’re a God damn blessing, okay? And if any girl didn’t want you, it’d be because they have a sexy scientist boyfriend or are a sexy scientist.”

“You missed Wanda,” Bucky said as he pouted.

“Or a badass,” She added. “Or… dating an android.”

Bucky sighed before kissing Natasha’s head softly. “I just don’t want to have to build myself over again, Natashen’ka.” He breathed against her hair. Natasha sighed softly.

“I know,” She said with a small bitter smile. Bucky realized she didn’t just know. She understood.

“But, anyway; let’s give her what she wants,” Natasha said. Bucky rose an eyebrow. “We let Steve go on while knowing her motives, and then we’d be able to see what she wants to do from then.”

Bucky hesitated.

“What, afraid Steve would snag up your crush?” Natasha smirked and Bucky scowled.

“I’m over it,” He grumbled. “And I’m insulted you think anyone would chose Steve over me.”

“Have you seen his ass?”

Bucky paused and sighed, unable to find a good response. “But I really am over it. It was just a short infatuation.”

Natasha made a face. “Mm hmm.”

“Mm hmm,” Bucky said firmly before grabbing his phone. “Let me just call him.”

Steve picked up on the second ring, deeply panting. “Yeah, Buck?” He heard Steve glug down water.

“When will you be back?” Bucky asked as he sat down.

“Um, we’re going back… oh. In an hour, actually.”

“And you’re working out?” Bucky deadpanned.

“I lost track of time… shoot. I’ve got 3 missed calls from Stark, and one from Wanda.”

“Yet you picked up my call?” Bucky smiled at his best friend. Such a fucking idiot.

“Telepathic best friend abilities,” Steve said and Bucky could hear the beam he definitely was having.

Bucky smiled fondly and rolled his eyes before getting to the point. “I asked because… well, we kind of need you in?”

“Oh? What for?” Steve asked curiously. “Did you guys break the plumbing?”

“I would’ve called the plumbing number on the fridge, Steve.”

“You know that’s my number, right?”

“Oh,” Bucky paused before continuing. “Never mind. We need you for… an interrogation?”

“What?” Steve asked incredulously. “What? You know I can’t do those. I’m too nice to push people for answers! It’s not very polite! I-I help people cross streets, not stare them down. You and Nat are for those. And Clint, he can look quite mean. Ask him.”

Bucky let out a laugh. “It’s… a long story,” Bucky admitted before launching into a summarized version of Summer’s deal. He quickly ran over the whole honey pot theory.

“Huh,” Steve said when he finished.

“So, what time will you be back?” Bucky asked.

“Uh… I’m not sure, maybe 5 hours?”

“Okay,” Bucky said. “See you.”

“Bye.” Steve replied cheerily. “I certainly can’t wait to meet the girl that’s got you sounding so smitten.”

“Wha—” Bucky looked down. He had hung up.

_Telepathic best friend abilities._

\---

Bucky froze the moment those words left her lips.

 _Oh no,_ He thought as he watched Summer angrily swipe at her cheeks. He felt awful. Steve gave him look. He gave a miserable one back.

His heart ached for her at the admission. If Steve hadn’t made a move, Bucky wouldn’t have been able to control the urge to just leap forward and kiss her tears away and hold her tightly. How small her body would feel around his comparatively giant frame.

But he did.

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve said softly, the plead as sorrowful as Summer’s. For a moment Bucky saw the small frail boy from Brooklyn, captured in a larger, healthier body. He gripped onto Bucky’s arm, so hard it almost hurt. “She hasn’t got no home and she’s been seriously hurt before, what from the reported panic attack upon being handcuffed.”

He felt horrible for saying it, but, “What if she really ends up to the enemy?”

Steve quirked a corner of her lips. “We’re the Avengers. We can handle it.”

“But—” Bucky looked away and softened his voice. “What if we grow attached?”

Steve rubbed his thumb over his bicep. “Nothing we’ve never done before.” He replied. Bucky nodded in return.

“Coulson won’t like this,” Bucky sighed. Steve smiled.

“We’ll just tell him we can psychoanalyze her while she’s with us, and we’ll give reports. And you know he’s a softie.” Steve waved his hand casually.

“For you, yeah,” Bucky rolled his eyes. Steve just blushed and rolled his eyes before swatting Bucky’s arm away and turning his head back to the sniffling girl. He noticed how the blonde’s eyes immediately softened.

Bucky sighed inwardly. He must’ve noticed how much she resembled pre-serum him as well, what with the all-too small and limp frame and hopeful wide eyes.

“Okay, Summer,” Steve said softly as he inched towards her. “Would you like to leave this place?”

“Yes, please,” Summer said politely as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I’d,” she hiccupped and blushed cutely. God, how was she so adorable? “I’d like to go home. Uh, you can just drop me… in where you found me.”

“Hmm.” Steve said, before kneeling down so he was at eye level with the brunette. “Okay, so what if I offered you a proposition.”

Summer blinked up, eyes still brimmed with red.

Taking it as a sign to go on, Steve did. “I’ll tell you the truth okay?”

“Please.” Summer whispered. Bucky’s heart broke a little, realizing how much she needed honesty right now.

“Those people you saw, they’re bad guys. Really bad guys. They saw your face, am I right?” Summer paused and nodded. “They saw you, and they know you came with us, so now they’re going to be looking for you, because you’re associated with us.”

Summer’s eyes widened. “I-I didn’t ask to be associated with anything.” She said weakly.

“I know you didn’t,” Steve said pityingly. “I’m so sorry you had to. But you know what Bucky did was to save your life, he didn’t mean to drag you into this mess, right Buck?” he glared at Bucky.

“Yes,” he grunted.

Summer wiped at her eyes. “He should’ve just left it to happen.”

Steve and Bucky both froze. Her words were genuine and laced with bitterness.

Steve hesitated before reaching out and taking Summer’s hand, Bucky almost amazed at how small her hands were compared to his. Summer looked up hesitantly as Steve rubbed circles over the back. Bucky smiled weakly. It felt like nice when he did that, and apparently Summer agreed as she slackened her stance.

“Summer, I want to keep you safe, not just because we’re suspicious, because I’m personally not,” Steve smiled and Summer returned a feeble one. Bucky’s heart did a little dance for a moment as she smiled so shyly. “But because you deserve it, okay?”

Summer didn’t know how to reply and Steve just smiled and continued caressing the small hand in his grip.

“You’ll be safe, and you can have your own room,” Steve said. Summer looked up at this. Steve smiled. “And we’ll make sure… we’ll make sure you get your meals. Does that sound okay to you?”

“Um.” Summer hesitated. “I, I don’t have anything.” She said quietly.

“What?”

“I don’t have anything in return,” She repeated with an embarrassed face. “I-I struggle to get by, so… I’m sorry, I don’t have anything much to give. No money. Uh, I can… if you want me to, I can help work. Just manual stuff, I’m not smart.”

The self-depreciating smile she gave that struggled to stay on her face managed to hasten the breaking of Bucky’s heart.

It wasn’t when Summer blinked up, those doe like brown eyes wide, when Bucky realized he’d left his post by the wall to join Steve.

“You don’t need to give us anything,” He said quietly. “Just your trust.”

Steve nodded affirmatively.

Smiling a little, Summer sighed. “I mean, how can I say no when Captain America’s involved?”

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you do have anything to comment, please do so. I feel like I could use some constructive criticism to help me steer where this story should go. Or, more like how it should be conveyed because I've got pretty much most of the main plots down. Still, feel free to give suggestions or correct me wherever you see fit!  
> Also. I could use a beta. I've never really worked with one, but I'd love to. I don't really know anyone to reach out to that would be willing so I'll just leave it at that.
> 
> Alright.  
> So. A few things to address her.e Hi, everyone. Wow. So, if you're an American, you've been having quite the hectic week, haven't you? I hope you're feeling okay, I pray to God that you have been safe, that you have not been receiving any hate from either sides of the very split community as of late. Please, please, please make sure you're safe, and please remembered you are more than what those haters say about you. Remember you are loved. I wish I could do more, but all I can do is offer my companionship! So, leave me a comment if you wish, and Gosh dang it, I wish I could figure up tumblr because it looks crazy, so I guess I belong there. But if you wish to PM me, you can send me a DM on instagram, on the account @colderthan.wintersoldier  
> Anyway! So, I felt like everyone has been forgetting this due to the elections, but today is a very special day! Today is Veteran's day! This day means a lot to me, because my heart goes out to veterans of all forms, amputees, POW, or just soldiers who have fought for their country. Honestly, I always have to blink back tears thinking about veterans, or hearing about them, or seeing them. Maybe it's because there aren't really veterans here in where I live, but when I went to Europe, I saw many, and I honestly sympathize for them. I hope they are all safe. Happy Veterans day, everyone. Please don't forget these brave men and women who have put their lives on a line for a better cause. Wars are cruel. They fight in it to stop them.  
> Okay. So, ramble over. I hope you liked the chapter! I will be working very hard to write these because my exams will be over next Wednesday! Yay!


	5. Chapter Five: Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer moves into the tower. Shit happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Sorry for a bit of a late update.  
> Anyways, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please give feedback because I'm always uncertain about what readers think! Also, do you guys think that Summer's character is a little, like, I don't know, weird?? Like do you guys know Summer? I feel like I don't focus too much on her personality. So read through this, and please tell me what you think of her!

The water felt cool against Summer’s skin. She wiped it off with the back of her hand and blinked at her reflection in the mirror. Dull but happy brown eyes stared back at her.

It was the cleanest she’s looked or felt in years now. Even the dirt underneath her nails were cleaned, and Summer had long made peace with their presence. In fact, she felt a little too clean, really. She smiled humourlessly. Funny.  She felt like she was too clean to be herself.

No. Summer was a dirty thing, someone who belonged scouring dumpsters and smudged with blood because that was just who she was.

She’d never forget that. Never be able to.

She may be clean on the outside, but she could only hide the dirtiness of her soul for so long.

She dabbed at her damp face with a cloth provided at a basket sat at the side of the sink.

Was she really doing the right thing?

“I’m just going to live with them for a little while, maybe get some free food while I’m at it, and if I decide they’re good guys, I’ll tell them what I heard and go… home.” Summer recited the plan to herself softly.

She checked herself once more, carefully adjusted the strands of hair stuck to her wet skin before mustering all the strength she could to take that one step she knew might just change her life forever.

She just wasn’t sure for good, or for worse.

But, hey, given her circumstances (also known as congrats, you’ve hit the point of Rock Bottom), it can only go uphill from here… right?

\---

Steve gave Summer a quick smile as she fixed her ear muffs that were perched on her head awkwardly. They were a little too big. She didn’t complain though. She gave a small off-centred smile back as she tried to be as small as possible so she didn’t take up too much space in the helicopter. It wasn’t hard. She was skinny. And she was used to making herself small.

It still felt unreal to have Captain America by her side. Partly because she didn’t think it was entirely possible for someone to have such physique and yet still have gracefulness in their steps and a certain finesse in the way they moved and carried themselves.

But mainly because he was, well, he was _Captain fucking America,_ that’s what. He wasn’t the sort of person Summer would ever expect to meet.

Well. One for the books.

Summer used to be sick a lot as a kid. Maybe that was why her parents didn’t want her. Maybe that was why many parents didn’t want her. But as a kid, filled with a precious and rare hope (and absolute naivety that was oddly beautiful and nostalgic), Summer had dreamt and wished she might end up like Steve Rogers and become super awesome despite once being a sick kid.

And okay, maybe she secretly still kept a little bit of that hope in her. So what?

“You afraid of heights?” Steve asked. Summer looked over at him smiled a little at the irony of his question. She _loved_ heights, could talk about the feeling of freedom and superiority it gave her all day.

But instead, she just shook her head, not wanting to trouble him with her words. Summer wasn’t really good at describing things anyway. She was stupid, nearly illiterate. He wouldn’t want to know, anyway. “Not really,” She said politely.

“Well, then,” Steve beamed. “You’ll enjoy this.”

She looked out the window, and glanced at the hundreds of other helicopters in the pad before feeling a little jump in her ribcage as the man, _Bucky,_ made his way into the pilot’s seat. Giddily, she thought about whether this meant they would be spending a bit more time together.

 _Maybe,_ she thought wistfully.

But then, as if the world was, yet again, taunting her, the passenger seat opened.

And in came a goddess.

Summer didn’t know who she was, but, God, she was absolutely gorgeous, and if Summer had swung that way, she would’ve swung herself right towards her without a thought. She was sexy and mysterious and reminded her of the female version of Mr Barnes, except she was way more confident in her stride and in the low V-neck of her shirt as well as that smirk on her face.

“Hi,” She said, and her voice sounded so deep and seducing and enticing. Summer blinked, and she was certain her mouth was agape. She was straight, not blind. “I’m Natasha Romanoff.”

“Hello,” Summer squeaked back, feeling intimidated just by her aura. She lowered her eyes, afraid to look into her deep green ones. “I’m uh, Summer.”

“Nice to meet you, Summer,” She drawled sexily before turning to face Bucky. She said something in Russian. Bucky rolled his eyes in return and said something back in the same language. Natasha laughed, and Bucky—

Okay.

Get this.

He _smiled_ softly back and… _wow._ He wore happiness so beautifully. He wore it well.

Suddenly all Summer wanted to do was to make him happy again, just to see that smile, be it just a passing thing.

Summer was so done. She was in a helicopter filled with impossibly beautiful people. She felt so inadequate. Like, sure, she’d always known she wasn’t exactly a looker, especially without makeup or dim lighting or a bit of drunkenness on the other party to help her out, but this was just depressing.

And the universe seemed to want to make sure she knew that, because if she had any confidence left at all, it would’ve shattered right then as Bucky placed a hand easily on Natasha’s thigh.

Natasha didn’t mind, just smiled as Bucky let it linger there.

 _Oh,_ Summer’s eyes widened a little and she blushed a furious red, but unable to tear her eyes away from the scene. _Of course._ They were together.

Oh my God, Summer was _such_ an idiot.

How could a person like Bucky not be taken? He was… beautiful, in every sense of the word.

Summer chided herself, felling like a masochist. Bucky had yelled at her and threatened her, yet there she was, thinking he was so alluring like some sort of high school girl ogling at that bad boy who doesn’t talk and wears black and has a sleek motorcycle he never lets anyone ride but you’re the first exception.

_(… Bucky on a motorcycle though…)_

_(Bucky and_ her _on a motorcycle though…)_

Whatever. She was damaged already.

“So,” Steve said through his mic and Summer turned, and saw a knowing look on the blonde’s face. She ducked her head. Mainly in embarrassment, and partially because: _what_ was with people and amazingly gorgeous eyes? It wasn’t fair at all. “Tell me a little more of yourself.”

Seeing Summer’s hesitance, Steve raised his hands. “Don’t worry. Off the records. You really can trust me.”

Summer looked out the window as the helicopter began to rumble. “I… what do you want to know?”

“You.” Steve smiled cheekily. “Well, about you. Tell me about… a hobby?”

“Hmm,” Summer frowned. Hobbies. She didn’t usually have the luxury of having that. No, really. She literally couldn’t afford it. “I like… singing?”

Well, it wasn’t like she liked it. But she didn’t hate it. She just… well, it was _free_ , for starters.

And sometimes when the loneliness really did get to her, singing made her feel less alone. When it got really cold too, singing helped even though she probably sounded awful especially with her chattering teeth.

“Oh, really?” Steve smiled. “That’s cool. You’ll have to sing for me one day. Mm… I suppose I have to tell you mine, now. I love to draw. Have since a century ago.”

Summer laughed a little at that. “You make yourself sound so old.” Summer mused, feeling a little more comfortable now. It’s been a few years since she’d been in a real conversation, and it actually felt good. Addictive.

“Heh. Well, I am,” Steve winked.

“No you aren’t. Not counting the years you’ve been in ice, you’re only about, what, 30?” Summer shrugged. “Not much older than me, really.”

Steve paused for a moment, eyeing Summer weirdly. “Hmm,” He just said. “Well, how old are you?”

“25.” Summer responded. At least, she thought so. Steve nodded in response, and allowed the lapse of silence to follow. Summer looked out the window and let out a soft breath of awe. They were really high up. Buildings looked like ants. Summer almost giggled. Ants probably looked like bacteria or something.

“There,” Steve pointed down. “Brooklyn. I grew up there.”

“I grew up in the Bronx.” Summer said softly.

“Yeah?” Steve looked surprise. What? Did he think she just lived in the jungle since the beginning of time?

“The Beatrice Home for Children was there. It was in a bad neighbourhood, but Beatrice took care for every single one of us like we were all her blood children.”

Steve paused, and in a kind voice, “What happened?”

Summer fiddled with her fingers. “Like I said.  Abad neighbourhood. A white man drove down the street one day, drunken out of his mind. Beatrice was throwing out the trash. He wanted sex, smelled like it already. But Beatrice said no. He got angry, reached to his side, pulled out a gun, and before she could scream, he shot her. She died. Right there.”

“Oh God, Summer.”

“27 children lost their mother that day.” Summer continued.

_And I gave up ever looking for one._

“Summer, I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered softly. “I lost my mother too. I understand how it feels.” He paused. "Thank you for telling me that. I appreciate it, ‘Mer.”

Summer looked up, surprised at the nickname. “Sorry, do you not want me to call you that?” He asked gently.

“No, no,” Summer assured him. “It’s fine. I… like it.”

Steve gave Summer a smile, and Summer realized he had held her hand somewhere during her reminiscing. He brushed his calloused thumb over the back of it. It felt comforting.

“You can tell me anything, okay? I promise you that you can trust me.”

Summer nodded. It would be difficult to try to really trust him, but…

She felt like she already had. A little. Enough to tell him about Beatrice, at least.

“Brooklyn wasn’t good in those days either. I lived in a bad place too.” Steve said. “I’ve seen places as dark as you have, and that was before Captain America.” He shook his head, looking down at his lap. “I think I’ve seen darker places as a skinny boy then I’ll ever living in that penthouse with millions adoring me because I’m a supposed righteous man. Because I’m a supposed perfect specimen.” Steve laughed and dropped Summer’s hand. “Sorry. I get a little too… immersed sometimes.”

Summer looked at him.

“Righteous, but not perfect,” She conveyed what she had thought since the day she saw the picture of the 90-pounds Steve in the Smithsonian. “That’s why they adore you. Because they can relate.” _Because I can relate. “_ They’re not perfect either.” _God. Far from it. “_ But that doesn’t stop you from seeking righteousness. And justice. See where that brought a skinny Brooklyn boy to.”

Steve gave Summer a sweet smile, eyes soft, and for a moment, Summer thought she saw a glimpse of herself in him. “New York City, apparently.”

“70 years in the future.” Summer added as she looked out the window at the skyscrapers below her. They were closer to heaven than the tower of Babel would’ve ever been.

They slowly descended, and when they did, Summer felt a little nervous. What if it was all a prank? What if it was a ploy to willingly get her to come to some sort of evil lair? She sneaked a look at Bucky.

No… they were all nice people, right?

Summer smiled wryly. This is Captain America, or course, they were.

But was _she_?

Summer shivered as she stepped out of the helicopter. God, it was freezing out here. She was still in jeans and a t-shirt and a pair of brand new sneakers. She breathed softly through clenched teeth, until suddenly, she felt a familiar warmth behind her. She turned her head and saw Bucky there, extending out a jacket.

“Steve and I don’t need jackets,” He coughed out before dropping it in Summer’s hand. Summer nodded and whispered a thank you before shrugging it on.

It smelled like grapes.

Summer liked it, she decided. She discreetly lowered her chin to take another whiff of the scent.

They moved into the building, and Summer immediately felt much warmer, even though they were just in what seemed like a garage for helicopters. They moved silently until they reached a door.

Steve placed his arm onto a touch pad next to the door and after a soft whirr, the door clicked, signalling it’s unlocked. Summer eyed the device in awe.

“Welcome to the Avenger Tower,” Steve beamed at Summer as he pushed it open, gesturing for Summer to enter. She slowly walked inside, and immediately felt out of place. The chandelier alone dangling from the ceiling was probably worth more than anything she’s ever owned— _including_ those expensive limited edition caramel chocolates.

It was like a hotel. Like the one uptown that had golden plates with mints by the counter. It was so elegant, and the floor was so polished Summer felt unworthy of stepping on it.

“I know, it’s something,” Steve said, drinking in the sight before him as well. “This is the lounge area. Stark has parties here sometimes.”

“By sometimes, he means almost every other week,” Natasha grinned, flashing her gorgeous teeth. Summer suddenly felt very self-conscious with her own teeth. Were they all spokespeople for Colgate too or something, aside from being World’s Sexiest Heroes?

“Stark?” Summer asked instead.

“Iron Man. Tony Stark.”

“Howard Stark was the man who helped enhance you,” Summer noted. Steve nodded, letting out a small laugh.

“His father.” He explained. “Wow. You seem to know a bit on me.”

“Major Smithsonian exhibitions are free,” Summer explained, blushing a little as she scratched the back of her neck. “Like yours.”

Summer didn’t bother mentioning they offered a bag of food and a buffet luncheon for the homeless once a month.

She knew what saying that would result in. Pitiful glances. ‘I’m sorry to have to go through that’s. Apathetic empathy.

“Then you should know him, right?” Steve bobbed his head towards Bucky, who was talking to Natasha by the bar. Natasha had reached up to push a stray hair behind Bucky’s ear. Summer frowned, feeling like she was invading, and turned back to Steve questioningly. “James Buchanan Barnes. My best friend. The one who fell from the train.”

Images of a handsome young man with cropped hair and a bright smile flashed in Summer’s head.

“From the Howling Commandos? James… Buchanan Barnes. Buchanan. Bucky.” Summer breathed. “Wow. I forgot his name. They took his panel down a year ago. T-that’s him? He looks different.”

_He’s… got a metal arm._

_And, hey. He’s alive._

“One and only,” Steve said. “And, well, war does do quite some stuff about a person…” He chuckled softly. “Look at me.”

Steve sounded nostalgic and bittersweet about the subject so Summer changed it. “Should I know Natasha too?”

“No,” Steve laughed. “She’s… pretty low-key. That’s what kids say these days right?”

“Beats me.” Summer shrugged.

Steve gave her a curious look but Summer didn’t bother to explain. Steve probably could use technology better than Summer anyway. She had never even owned an iPhone. What model was it on now? Summer recall seeing a large poster of an Apple watch on the side of a building. 7 maybe? 8?

“Hey, you must be tired. Let me show you your room.” Steve said as he began towards an elevator.

So she reluctantly left, turning her head just once more, Summer felt a little disappointed Bucky hadn’t attempted to talk to her not once but she chided herself quickly. The man had a girlfriend, a perfect one at that. And even if he didn’t, Summer wouldn’t be the kind he’d be after.

Sometimes she wasn’t sure if she was the kind anyone’d be after.

She wasn’t exactly girlfriend material. Not anymore, at least. Not that she had ever really been.

“Here,” Steve announced. “You’ll be staying on this floor. I will be too, as well as Bucky. Natasha’s room is a floor above. If you need anything, just have Friday ping us. Friday?”

“Yes, Mr Rogers.”

Summer jolted a little at the soft voice that came overhead.

There was a quick pause. “Unfortunately, we do not have your companion on our database, and the facial scan did not come up with any matches.” Another beat. “Are your watches in your closet, sir?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve said quickly before seeing Summer’s confused look. “It’s from The Hiding Place, a book written by a Jew during the World War II. I was a Jew, and from the same era, so naturally, Tony thought it’d be apt to use that a security measure.”

“I like that book. It’s the one by Corrie Ten Boom.” Summer replied. “I read it… a long time ago.”

_When I still knew how to._

“Oh,” Steve said, surprised, before pushing the door handle. “Didn’t peg you to read that sort of stuff.”

She just shrugged.

“Bea was a Jew.”

She didn’t feel like it was worthwhile to mention that Captain America had been the one to inspire her to study history. She also didn’t want him to think that she was a freak and adored the superhero.

He stepped in first, before gesturing Summer. The latter shuffled inside before gaping at the sight before her.

“W-wow,” She managed to say through the awe. “I…”

“Tony likes his constructions to be top notch,” Steve admitted. “He likes his everything to be top-notch.”

“Why, thank you, Mr Rogers,” Friday’s voice echoed.

Summer drank in the sight before her. There was a humongous bed sitting next to a large window that showed the nightscape. And the décor. Tasteful, Summer thought. She didn’t appreciate art, but she could tell this art looked _expensive._

Paintings and fancy wall lamps lined the walls. And at the side of the room there was a small bar illuminated by a miniature chandelier. There was another door and Summer looked at it questioningly. Steve caught the look.

“It’s got an en suite.” Steve said, as if that cleared up everything. Noticing Summer’s still confused look, he added, “Toilet. An adjourning toilet.”

Summer managed a nod. “All of this is my room?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “It’s all yours.”

Well. Summer could certainly get used to this.

\--

“Would you like to join the rest for dinner, Ms Summer? Mr Rogers requested for you.” Friday’s soft lullaby voice sounded.

“Can I please, um, kindly reject the offer?” Summer said as she sat against the windowsill, eyeing the beautiful view, memorizing it as well as she could, knowing there wouldn’t be another chance to. “Say I’m… I’m tired.”

“Of course,” Friday said pleasantly in return.

Quietly, Summer bit onto the Snickers she found on the minibar.

Sure, she was a coward because she didn’t want to meet all the other people she’d asked Friday about, but hey. At least she was brave enough to admit it.

She swallowed the caramel candy and sighed deeply and heavily.

“What on earth am I doing?” She whispered desperately to the air, hoping for someone, anyone, to answer.

But even Friday with her enormous database didn’t seem to have one as she remained quiet, leaving Summer alone to ponder upon the past 24 hours of her life.

Oh, and also to vigorously resist the very idea that, _fuck,_ Summer was crushing. Hard.

\--

Summer jolted backwards as the pellets of warm, clear water washed over her from the ceiling. She gingerly reached out her hand. The water was warm and inviting. She grabbed the shower head and began, for the first time in a long, long time, to take a proper shower.

Summer wondered how it felt like to have showers as a norm. To never have to worry about staying clean. To never worry about how to survive when the lakes frosted over, and the public pools had closed.

She decided it would feel nice.

She could use some nice.

She scrutinized below the ‘aqua ultra-hydrating ginger and lemon scented with real dead sea salt’ to see what product it actually was before squeezing a small cent-sized (the directions stated so) drop of the gel. She lathered it thoroughly and washed her hair with it. The ginger and lemon smelled kind of good. Who knew?

The towel also exceeded expectations. It was soft, very soft, as if made of magic cotton or something of the sort. Summer sniffed it. It smelled like flowers. Summer thought it might be lavender. She wrapped it around her body, eyes carefully darting around, making sure to avoid the full body length mirror. Who puts such large mirrors in bathrooms anyway?

She opened the cupboard and took a soft cotton shirt and similarly soft pants. Everything was so soft, it was ridiculous. She sighed in content as she slipped the clothes on. She liked soft, she decided. She liked everything that was the opposite of her.

Bucky would be a prime example.

She rid her mind of those thoughts. For now, she would just enjoy the soft fabrics against her skin, and the warmth of the room that wasn’t really hers.

She smiled sadly as she dried her hair with a hairdryer, which blew out comforting puffs of heat.

It sure will be quiet hard to let all of this go.

\--

Summer tossed and turned on her marshmallow bed, unable to fall asleep. She groaned helplessly. It was too soft for her, and she wasn’t used to it, even though the blankets were very nice and the pillows were softly scented with what she believed was lavender.

Grunting, she sat up finally, unable to take it anymore, and shifted uncomfortably at the way her but almost sank down into the very soft bed. She then decided that she would lay the blanket on her floor and sleep on that instead. She lied down on the cotton padded floor. Much better.

Suddenly, as she had just closed her eyes, she heard a loud cry. Alerted by the strange sound, she sat up, alarmed. What could it be? Were they under attack?

And then, as if for confirmation, another muffled sound echoed out. A loud scream. And the sound of something shattering.

“Friday?” She asked, panicked. She clenched the blankets in her fists fearfully. Were the bad men back?

_For her?_

“Yes, Ms Summer,” She responded almost immediately.

“What’s that noise?”

“It seems like Mr Barnes is having a nightmare,” Friday informed, and Summer calmed down a little. “Heart rate is spiking. Respiration rate 23 intakes per minute. Adrenaline is being secreted, body undergoing fight or flight mode.”

Yet another painful howl sounded and Summer’s heart clenched painfully at the sound. He sounded like he was dying, not having a nightmare.

“Um, what usually happens? Will he be okay?”

“Usually Mr Rogers will take care of it,” Friday said, a little worriedly. Could machines sound worried? “However, Mr Rogers is out debriefing.”

Another shrill scream made Summer stand up. “Screw it. Nope. He sounds like he’s dying in there. I should go.”

“He can be violent,” Friday warned.

Summer raised an eyebrow, albeit feeling a little more fearful now. She isn’t stupid. The man was a metal fucking arm. “Well, I’ll slap him awake if I have to.”

Summer knew how much nightmares sucked. She was stuck having them 8 out of 10 tens she slept, and God were they absolutely exhausting. Honestly, she’d spend nights just sitting, not wanting to sleep, knowing it would only worsen her fatigue. She’d watch stars instead. That was one of perks of living in the forest and away from the city lights. Stars shone bright in the wilderness.

“Is this his?” Summer asked as she arrived at the door where the sound was the loudest. Friday confirmed her deduction and Summer pushed open the door.

Her heart panged a little as she saw Bucky on the bed, tears rolling down his eyes, fists tight as he strained painfully and he screamed in Russian while his body writhed.

“Ostanovit,” He screamed, his voice hoarse. “Ostanovit, stop! Stop! _Please!”_

Summer had rushed to his side, kneeling down as she grabbed his shoulders.

“Hey, hey,” She whispered carefully. “Hey, uh, Bucky,” His name felt strange on her lips, sounding both foreign and familiar. “Wake up, come on. Hey, it’s fine, wake up. Hey! Friday, he’s not responding! How does Steve do it?”

“He runs his finger through his hair and whispers his name and tells him memories, Ms Summer.”

“Well shit,” She cursed before gently running her hand over his head. It was surprisingly very soft. She self-consciously leaned closer and pressed against his ear, hoping that would get him to wake.

“Bucky,” She whispered. “Hey, come on, Bucky. It’s okay, you’re okay. Bucky…”

She did this for a bit more as Bucky whimpered and whined as he moved against Summer.

Bucky paused, and his bright eyes opened. They looked bluer than ever, under the wetness. Summer had to stop herself from wiping it off. He blinked at Summer for a moment before throwing his arms around her, letting of harsh sobs and sharp inhales.

“Yeah, buddy,” Summer said as she carefully wrapped her arounds around his torso. He was shivering slightly and even with his stature, he felt so small right then in his arms. His breath was warm against her neck. “You’re okay. You’re safe. No bad guys here. Come on…”

Miraculously, Bucky stopped, chest still heaving as he opened his eyes. They were wet, brimmed with tears. “Huh?” He said in a cracked voice. Fuck. Even crying and half-asleep he looked beautiful.

“You were having a nightmare.” Summer explained slowly, inching backwards now that he was awake. Still, she kept her hand in his hair, dragging them over his scalp the way she liked it. “You looked pained, so I woke you up.”

Bucky had sat up and he stared down at his lap. Summer noticed how he grabbed them to stop them from shaking so much. His grip was hard and unforgiving. Summer saw a bit of herself in him for a moment, but she must’ve been wrong because Bucky couldn’t possibly have a piece of her and still be so perfect.

She hesitated.

And then she reached out, and planted her hand onto his. The metal was cold. But she didn’t mind.

Slowly, Bucky turned his flesh hand so his palms faced upwards. Summer realized it was an invitation. A small blush filled her cheeks and she was grateful for the darkness as she put her hand there, nearly shivering at the warmth that blossomed from their interlaced hands.

“T-thank you,” He finally said, voice rough and vulnerable. “Thanks.”

Summer nodded. Bucky remained quiet so she thought he might want her to leave. And she was going to, if he hadn’t started shaking so intensely.

“Hey, hey,” She rushed out and grabbed his shoulders as they trembled. “Are you okay? Can you breathe?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said weakly. “I just, I don’t… Can you…”

He blinked up, and under those dark and damp eyelashes he looked so afraid Summer subconsciously leaned closer, hoping her proximity might just give him some comfort.

“Can you just stay for a little bit?”

Summer looked at his eyes, trying to make some sense (or truth) of his words, which seem to be bluer under those tears. Summer suddenly felt like kissing the saltiness away.

“Yeah,” She said, smiling softly after a beat, because who could say no to him, when his eyes look so vulnerable and pleading? “Yeah, okay.”

She continued to brush over his scalp. His breathing stabilized.

After a while, Summer thought he had fallen asleep. She carefully pried her hand away before suddenly, Bucky had grabbed her hand, letting out a whimper.

“Hey, hey. I’m still here,” Summer comforted, digging her fingers back into his soft hair. She smiled, thinking how cute Bucky was like this. She nearly planted a kiss on his forehead as he seemed to absentmindedly nuzzle into her hand, letting out a contented sigh.

“Come here,” Bucky said tiredly as he scooted over, leaving a small Summer-sized space. Summer blinked, feeling a little hesitant. But honestly, how can anyone ever refuse Bucky’s eyes and that gentle pout? This man should be made illegal. Summer slid herself stiffly, back down, onto the small space, deciding to keep her distance. After all, Bucky was still in a sleepy state. He probably wouldn’t remember what he did. He just needed some comfort and—

“Oomph!”

Well. There goes her plans.

Bucky had rolled over on top of Summer, bring his blanket along, with one shaky arm draped over her body, while he stuffed his damp face against her neck and hair, wrapping the two of them together in a sushi roll.

She gulped a little at his nearness.

It has been a while since human contact like this.

Affectionate. And… depending.

But Bucky just smelled like grapes and plums and he was so soft and _good,_ so Summer just let him. And slowly, she wrapped her arms around him too, barely getting her hands to meet at his back. She thought it was funny that someone so big and powerful could feel… well, could feel like Summer.

Wasn’t fair, Summer thought as she run her fingers over his hair. It wasn’t fair someone so beautiful like him still had to go through the same sorrows. He probably deserved a fast pass in life or something.

“You’re okay… You’re safe,” Summer lulled while Bucky let out small snivels against her skin. These were words she knew well, because she often repeated those words to herself.

Sometimes, when you repeat the words enough, someone starts to believe them.

This much Summer knew.

Slowly, Bucky’s chest stopped heaving so much and his sniffs became gradually lesser. After a while of deep breaths, Bucky sighed.

“Are you real?”

Summer cocked an eyebrow. “Uh huh, I think I am.”

“Okay,” Bucky sounded relieved. Heck, by that giant sagging of shoulders, she could feel his relief. “I was just worried that…” He coughed. “Never mind.” Suddenly, Bucky had released Summer from his grip. The sudden lack of contact made her let out a soft surprised sound. It felt colder now without his warmth.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky grunted. Summer looked over at him. He was on his back too now, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “You… You should go. Don’t want the rest to see us like this.”

Summer faltered. “Right,” She said, scrambling onto her feet, shoeless feet nearly slipping on the smooth flooring. Of course he didn’t want to be seen like that especially with someone like her. Plus, he had a girlfriend, for God’s sake. A fucking beautiful one at that. _Idiot._

What was she thinking anyway? Cuddling up with him? Or, really, thinking it could be something? Summer decided it was best to finally stop her little crush. Yes. She shall avoid him at all costs and give him stink eyes. Not that she needed help in him not wanting her. More of the other way around.

Summer was just about to leave, determined to sleep off her emotions, when:

“Summer?”

Summer paused. _Don’t do it,_ the smart part of her said, but the smart part was very small compared to her self-control, or lack thereof. “Mm?” She turned around. Bucky was looking at her now, with softer eyes. He rubbed them and blinked adorably.

And then he gave her a sweet, shy smile and her heart melted into goo as he peeked up from lush lashes. “Thanks.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how Summer went back to square one.

\--

Summer jerkily moved back to her room, a phantom arm wrapped around her body still as she shimmied under her blankets, eyes still wide.

Well, fuck. How was she supposed to sleep now, knowing how his arms feel wrapped around her?

\--

The answer was: she wasn’t.

She had managed to get 2 hours and a half tops of shuteye before waking up due to the bright glare from the window.

“Is there no curtain?” Summer grumbled moodily.

“Well,” Friday responded and suddenly there was a mechanical whirring. The window darkened and so did the room. “Not curtains.”

“Right,” Summer murmured. Her stomach growled, and she decided that if she kept having Snicker bars, she’d eventually run out of midnight snacks. So reluctantly, she left her room and walked down the hallway, still barefooted. No one would be up at 8 anyway, right?

Wrong.

Summer gulped and immediately froze at the sight of his bare back. His muscles rippled beautifully as he dropped the bacon into the pan and began to cook. His hair was thrown into a loose bun, with some strands still brushing over his shoulders.

Oh my God, Summer’s mouth was watering and it wasn’t even from the smell of bacons.

Fuck, he was hot.

What happened to giving him the stink eye?

“Good morning,” He called out, turning around. He offered a small smile.

Summer tried to make it look like she wasn’t ogling.

“Hi,” She stammered out, barely being able to keep her composure around this… attractive man. She suddenly just wanted to run back to her room. Her hair was probably a mess, and she didn’t even brush her teeth. She frowned. She bet for Bucky it didn’t even matter. He probably woke up with minty breath and adorable bedhead and a sweet smiles.

She wondered if she’d ever find out…

“Sleep okay?” He asked as Summer just stood there awkwardly.

“Uh,” Summer said before deciding to lie. “Yes.”

Bucky turned and eyed her. “What? Bed not up to your standards?”

“No, no,” Summer quickly corrected, not realizing she had just come off as rude. She looked down at her feet. She didn’t like her feet. They were large and calloused and wide and her nails were ugly. She looked to the side of her feet instead, at the wooden floorboards. “The bed was too soft. So I slept with the blanket on the floor.”

There was a small pause. “I was the same. I’ll ask for Tony to replace it with a harder bed.”

“No!” Summer defended. “It’s fine! I’ll get used to it! No need to fuss over it!”

“Summer.” Bucky said firmly. “You need your sleep. We don’t want a moody bitch around, right?”

Summer blinked at him and nodded slowly. Bucky smiled, a quick passing thing, before turning around to continue cooking. She tried not stare at his amazingly chiselled back. She did not succeed.

Summer was surprised when he dropped a plate in front of her and used his spatula to push down the eggs and bacon from the pan. “Eat,” He commanded.

He came back a second later, and held out a fork and a knife. Summer hesitantly grabbed for the silverware.

Their fingers brushed for a moment. She ignored the flare of the heat. Bucky didn’t seem to feel it at all.

Bucky cooked his food quietly and then set it down on the opposite side of the counter. They ate silently. Summer had to pause a lot of times because she wasn’t used to eating so much. In fact, she usually skipped the first and supposed most important meal of the day. But Bucky was fine with it. Bucky ate as slowly as Summer did, patiently accommodating to whenever she needed to drink water to help her swallow.

Summer wished every morning could be as peaceful and lazy as this, and every morning she could see a sight as beautiful as him.

But, alas, Summer could just never have things going her way, can she?

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be updating the next chapter as soon as I finish the one I'm working on, which is chapter like 8 or something. I know where I want to go with the story but the process is just a teensy weensy difficult. So! Tell me what you think of Summer, describe her if you will. Technically, I wanted her to be a little sassy, headstrong, but she has some issues to work through which I am excited to reveal. It's a little, um, well, messy. I really need to do research on it, because it's so hard to write about it.  
> I'm rambling. Eek.  
> Anyways, I don't celebrate Thanksgiving (I don't even know when it is) but I wish everyone who do a very happy Thanksgiving! I also wish that everyone has had a wonderful day. Thanks for reading, I love you all for that.
> 
> Bye for now!


	6. Chapter Six: Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky angst, Bucky fluff, then Bucky angst again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep! I hope you guys like this one. I hope it's not too cringe or not too angst or not too fucking long.

Bucky felt sick as he fumbled to open his medicine cabinet. He rummaged through the bottles as his breathing became harsher. He swore in Russian and shakily slammed the door shut.

“Friday,” He breathed. His fingers opened and closed in jerky motions as he squeezed his eyes. "Can you order them for me?”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” Friday gently said.

He looked down as he felt the pinch, and realized little crescents had appeared in his palms. _Fuck._ He quickly released them.

He remembered the last time they saw those marks. They hadn’t been… very pleased with Bucky’s progress. Sent him back to the therapist.

Bucky didn’t like the therapist.

“Friday?” He asked, responded by a patient ‘yes sir?’ “Can you also… up the dosage?”

A pause.

“Okay, Mr Barnes,” Friday said, and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. He felt like at that moment she was the only one he could tolerate. Or perhaps the only that could tolerate him. Not judgmental at all. Kind. Maybe Bucky worked better with machines like himself.

“Thank you, Friday.”

\--

Steve managed to get through with all of it without any interruptions at all, which was quite the feat for the Avengers household. It actually became so silent that Bucky was beginning to think he had ended up in an alternate reality where Tony Stark wasn’t a smartass when—

“Okay wait,” The billionaire held up a finger. “So, she likes in the jungle. Like Tarzan. Can she speak animal?” He deadpanned.

Of course. A universe where he wasn’t was a universe that did not exist.

“No, Tony, she’s not Tarzan.” Steve said patiently. “She lives in the outskirts of the town, in the less dense areas of the forest, and she stays in a hut, alone.”

Bucky felt an unsettling feeling in his stomach. He had been the one who met Summer first, had been the one to _save_ her, though he’ll never again hold that against her ever again, yet here Steve was, saying things about Summer that Bucky hadn’t even known.

Simple things he hadn’t even _thought_ about asking.

Bitterness rose like bile in his throat.

Bucky glared at his fingers. She probably hated him. Why shouldn’t she? He had given her every reason to. He wished he never met her. He wished it was Steve who had found her. Saved her. Held her. It would’ve saved some time. Saved some feelings on Bucky’s part. Saved Summer her misery of having to deal with Bucky.

But _no._ The world just wanted to make it so much harder.

He saw his nails digging into his flesh before he felt the pain register only 2 seconds later. He hid his shaky breath as he loosened up his fingers. Not here. Not know. Not when they can see.

He stored the thought at the back of his mind.

 _Later_.

He looked back up at his friends. They were silently processing the newest addition to their tower, their _home._ Bucky caught himself.

 _Our_ home.

Yet sometimes he still felt like an invader. Not that he’d ever mention it to them. They’d just baby him and say he’s thinking nonsense. That he’s family. They wouldn’t understand. Bucky wasn’t trying to be hard, or to be _ungrateful,_ he just… he just—

He just… was.

He swallowed. _Please go away,_ he told the acidic feeling pressing against his chest. _I don’t want you here. Go away… go away…_

It didn’t. It just laughed at Bucky mockingly and pushed harder.

Bucky focused on something else instead. Like his pasta. He didn’t feel like eating. But his therapist said having no appetite was another symptom. The reminder made him shovel another spoonful of the pasta down his throat, forcing his stomach to accept it. As he chewed, he glanced around the table.

Wanda was silent, sitting broodingly in her seat. She hadn’t given any input since the news was broken. Vision gave her a concerned look, which she just responded with a mild smile that sent shivers down Bucky’s back. Sometimes Bucky thinks he’s more afraid of her than anyone else. Maybe not Natasha. Or Pepper. The powerful women behind the team. And perhaps Jane, though she was more forgiving. But definitely Darcy.

Bucky swallowed his food, the sound loud compared to the thick silence surrounding them.

He was suddenly reminded of the loud-mouthed and free minded archer’s absence. Clint was probably in his farmhouse having a happy and content meal with his family. Bucky wished he was here though. He’d know what to say. He’d probably be good friends with Summer too, being the father figure he was.

Then again, Summer would probably end up being good friends with everyone but him.

There was a reason Bucky only had one best friend despite being the smartest in class and the fastest on the track. Bucky wasn’t an awful person, he was just _difficult_.

Sometimes Bucky found it funny people thought he hung out with Steve because it felt more like an obligation. He laughed at that because they were wrong. It was the other way around, even when Steve was nothing but a skinny kid standing up against bullies.

“Okay, listen up guys,” Steve said sternly. “She’s a good kid. She’s not going to pose any threats or stir up any trouble.”

“Steve, you spent 5 minutes with her,” Bucky murmured, forking his pasta maybe a little bit too hard.

“15,” Steve argued. “And it was enough time to know that she’s got it hard in life, she at least deserves some sort of help after the whole incident.”

Bucky looked down, feeling like he was a child that just got scolded. He swallowed thickly, wanting to tell Steve that wasn’t what he meant. He knew Summer could use he help, of course he did, he just wished—

He just wished it was… _him_ offering the help.

His heart fell a little at a sudden realization. Summer would probably rather Steve’s help. Steve, with his comforting hands and soft eyes. Steve, with his beautiful words and kind smiles. Steve. Understanding, patient, and so good for someone like Summer, someone who needed a break from the… the uglier side of the world.

Bucky’s shoulders fell into a slouch.

“What if she’s lying?” Wanda finally spoke. “Can I see her?”

“No, Wanda,” Steve gave her a look. “No spooking her.”

Wanda pursed her lips. “I wasn’t going to. I was just going to observe,” She murmured.

“She’s got a point, though.” Tony said. “She could be lying. Maybe she’s eavesdropping right now. Hey, you! Stop listening, it’s private!” Tony hollered out. Bucky rolled his eyes at him. “What if she turns out to be Hydra? What you going to do then, Mr. I-See-Good-In-Everyone? Will you be too attached by then?” He leaned back. “I second the witch. Spook her.”

“I’m not going to,” Wanda argued softly.

Steve sighed and darted his eyes around. “Friday, is audio still off?”

“Of course, Mr Rogers.”

“Uh, why is audio off?” Tony asked.

Steve sighed again. “Phil doesn’t know about this.”

“What?” Natasha asked while Bucky complemented with a, “The fuck?”

“I can explain,” Steve said calmly. “I asked him about her. He told me they had no records with her face. The fact that she hasn’t got a last name didn’t help.”

“She didn’t have a last name?” Tony asked incredulously. “Steve!”

Steve ignored him. “I asked if he was going to put her under witness protection.”

“Surely,” Vision said in his calm voice. “Hydra saw her. And Hydra wants to be unseen. They’d go to desperate lengths to ensure it.”

Wanda looked a little uncomfortable. Vision reached for her hand. Whispered something in her ear. She smiled. Bucky assumed it must be the mention of Hydra that had made Wanda upset. After all, she had once been part of it, sharing its objectives of destroying the Avengers.

 _But what about me?_ Bucky thought selfishly. Who would be there to hold him, knowing something was wrong just by a shift in his hands, to whisper to him that it wasn’t his fault, and Bucky was as much victim as the people he killed—had been forced to kill? Who?

He looked down again. No one. Because he didn’t deserve it.

 “I assumed so,” Steve agreed as Vision continued to rest his palm on Wanda’s lap. How nice it must be, Bucky imagined, to have that. “But Phil… he wanted to send her back home… and then, Hydra would come after her and…”

“Use her as a bait,” Bucky finished softly. “Without her knowing.”

The captain nodded. “I couldn’t let it happen. She’s a good kid,” he repeated. “And she lives in a hut, for God’s sake… And it’s going to be winter soon, are you really going to let her stay there like that? She’d freeze to death.”

Bucky swallowed numbly. Summer. Winter.

However will they ever be fitting for each other, when one freezes the other?

“But again. What if she’s lying? What if she’s got a tracker, and Hydra is coming over here right now? We don’t have enough pasta for so many house guests.” Tony said.

“She doesn’t, I had her scanned by Friday when she came in,” Natasha admitted.

“Indeed.” Friday perked up. “I have also noted that she is malnourished and approximately 55 pounds underweight. Showing deficits of proteins and vitamins B, C, D and K. Sodium content is too high. She seems to be slightly anaemic as well, so a diet with iron, such as salmon, should be recommended. Also, she has consumed 7 snickers and a caramel wafer over the past hour. The sugar content in that isn’t very healthy.”

A pause.

“Well,” Tony said. “We’ve done weirder things.” He shrugged. And so that was that. Father Stark has given approval. He slurped up his pasta noisily as the atmosphere immediately became visibly less tense. “Well,” He started, “Is she pretty?”

Bucky had to bite down on my tongue not to burst out saying something stupid like ‘no’ because, well, _no_. He didn’t want anyone to think she was pretty but himself. Bucky wanted to feel special.

But he’s got no right to do that. So he kept his mouth shut.

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve replied. “She’s easy on the eyes.”

_More. More than easy on the eyes. She’s a fucking blessing on the eyes._

“Oh,” Tony waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Do you have a crush, cap?”

Steve let out an easy laugh. “As if.” He shrugged. “Besides. I’m not looking for a relationship. Not yet.”

Not _yet,_ he said.

Bucky swallowed hard. He seriously hoped that Steve wasn’t having feelings for Summer, or ever will. Because if he did… well, other than being selfish, Bucky was also very problematic. Next to the golden angel, he wouldn’t even begin stand a chance.

They finished the dinner. He went back to his room. He swallowed 3 pills he was prescribed to but didn’t work well enough. They didn’t seem to help at all. Bucky blamed his immune system. He took a couple of sleeping pills.

God, he wished he could get drunk.

\---

_The Winter Soldier woke up to unfamiliar faces with lifeless eyes poking and prodding at him. He tried to move, but as expected, he was strapped down with metal confinements to a cold, hard table._

_But just because he expected the pain didn’t mean he didn’t feel it, because, God, did he feel it and God did it hurt. He felt it in his bones, in his teeth, in his hair, in his shoulders, in his heart. That was, if he had one. It hurt so much._

_But he mustn’t show pain. Never. He was a weapon. Weapons don’t show pain; they inflict it._

_That’s right. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly. He’s a weapon, and weapons don’t feel pain. I’m a weapon, I’m a weapon, I’m a weapon._

_Sometimes, when you repeat words long enough, people start to believe it. The Soldier knew this much._

_“It’s been too long since his last session, sir,” A muffled voice sounded in Russian._

_“Then wipe him. Start again.” A rougher voice said._

_“No, sir… it’s not effective… we need to…”_

_A pause._

_“Do it.”_

_The soldier’s eyes widened as the sound of footsteps grew louder. Oh no. He knew what was coming._

_He was going under._

_He started to scream, voice loud, shrill and so brutally rough and desperate for help he almost didn’t recognize it. What he was screaming was incoherent, his babbles mixed with Russian and English and maybe German. Stop, he was screaming as they lead him to a place that was too familiar._

_The coldness began to seep through his skin and into his bones._

_He hated the cold. He hated as a young boy looking down at his best friend pale as snow in a cot, understanding what cold did to a person. He hated it as a soldier having to fight in winter, with only adrenaline to fuel his numbed skin. He hated it even more as a machine, even though he was made to endure the very essence of cold._

_Even though he_ himself _was cold._

_But maybe all that did was make him hate it more._

_He pounded his metal fist against the fogging glass, while muffled screams for help sounded and then suddenly—_

_“Hey,” A gentle voice sounded. Warm chocolate eyes appeared. A soothing hand against his neck. It was warm. The soldier leaned against it, whimpering. “Bucky…”_

_Bucky. Who was—right. That was his name. Not the Winter Soldier. He wasn’t just a weapon. He had a_ name. _One that this person was saying so beautifully through gentle whispers and paired with caring touches unlike those of the cold, cold doctors._

An angel _, Bucky decided. Not a person, but an angel that smelled of… ginger and lemon… and caramel?_

_And warmth. An angel made of sunlight._

_Bucky threw himself into her arms, sobbing quietly as he felt warm fingers in his scalp, tugging on it but not roughly like those men who dragged him around by his hair._

_“You’re okay… you’re safe…” She whispered over and over again until Bucky started to believe her. His heart slowed down. He was okay. He was safe._

He opened his eyes.

Summer was looking at him carefully, brown eyes warm like a hot chocolate drink. Had she said something?

“H-huh?” Bucky stammered out, confused, eyes with boggled with sleep.

Summer gave a small smile as Bucky blinked at her. Weird. Those brown eyes looked like those of the angel in his dream…

“You were having a nightmare,” She whispered through the darkness of the room. “You looked kind of pained… so I woke you up.”

Bucky slowly regained his senses, and realized there was a gentle relaxing feeling at his skull. Summer. Her hand.

Bucky’s eyes widened a little in realization. She _was_ the angel.

He slowly sat up, Summer helping him. He blinked down at his lap, noticing his hand was quivering, the way it always does when he awakes from a nightmare. He grabbed it with his metal hand, forcing it to not move. He practiced his breathing techniques as he tried to calm his beating heart. Yet his fingers couldn’t stop shaking. Summer seemed to notice.

He heard her deep breath before she reached out her free hand and placed it—

_Oh._

Her hands, so small yet providing so much comfort, had curled around Bucky’s metal hand. He could feel the warmth from the thermoreceptors. Summer didn’t seem to mind that it was cold. She just blinked slowly at Bucky as she gently rubbed her thumb over it.  

Slowly Bucky lifted up his flesh hand, turning his palm up. There was a moment as Bucky thought Summer was confused when she just carefully moved her hand there. Bucky closed his hands so their fingers intertwined.

They just sat there like that for a long time until Bucky felt better. Summer never once stopped sifting her hands through Bucky’s hair and move her fingers to create enough friction to warm Bucky.

Liquid sunlight. Summer was carved and moulded from liquid sunlight. Bucky was sure of it.

They sat, and sat, until Bucky was certain he could memorize the feeling of her calloused yet gentle fingertips.

“Thank you,” He murmured, voice coming out crackly. He coughed and repeated it, “Thanks.”

Summer nodded patiently. Bucky tried not to shiver too obviously as her fingers brushed the base of his head. Fuck. That felt good.

Suddenly Summer’s presence and her oversized shirt became a little too overwhelming.

But in a nice way. In a way that she was suffocating him, but with ginger and lemon and a strange softness Summer couldn’t have learned being in the forest by herself.

But then she started to move away. Before he could help himself, he had let out a low whimper and he began to shake.

Flashes of him being alone in that cold, cold place shone in his mine, playing out like his personal hell. Except his hell was cold. There was a soft yet firm grip on his shoulders, pulling him out of that abyss. Back on earth. Or was this heaven?

“Are you okay?” She asked worriedly. Was she really worried for him? Or did she just see it as an obligation? Maybe Bucky was just seeing things so he could feel better about himself. “Can you breathe?”

His lungs felt tight but on the physical aspects of things, he was fine. “Yes,” he affirmed. “I just… I don’t… Can you…”

He struggled to get the words out. So he said it in a small whisper, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on how nervous he was to ask.

“Can you just stay for a little bit?”

He could feel Summer’s eyes on him.

“Yeah,” She said, voice soft and understanding. “Yeah. Okay.”

Summer continued to move her seemingly magical hand over his hair, untangling some of it but not harshly the way he could do to himself with a brush. She took her time, patiently going through knots with her slender fingers and Bucky sighed at how nice it felt.

So this was how it was like to feel precious. This was how being cared for felt like.

It was… addictive.

He let his eyes slip shut, losing himself in the bliss, until suddenly, the pressure on his scalp was gone. Bucky’s throat suddenly felt constricted at the surprisingly lack of contact and he let out a strained sound, hand reaching out.

“Hey, hey,” Summer assured. “I’m still here.”

Bucky gulped and hurriedly move to the side. “Come here,” He said, making enough room for Summer, which wasn’t much room at all.

Summer gave him a slow blink and Bucky was about to tell her it was okay if she didn’t want to, when she climbed onto the bed, on top of the blankets. She lied on her back, looking adorably lost. Bucky smiled a little, and before he could help himself, his body had already engulfed Summer into his own bubble, using her as a heater.

Carefully, he tucked his head into Summer’s velvety hair, and against her warm neck. She smelled like caramel. Bucky never really liked sweets that much, but it was nice. Comforting.

After a while, Summer had become less tense and she was whispering soft nothings against Bucky’s hair. “You’re safe… you’re okay… you’re fine… no one can hurt you here…”

Bucky knew they were lies, but Summer’s voice was so genuine and sweet nothing sounded truer. And well, it was part truth, in the way that Summer wouldn’t hurt him.

But he wasn’t scared of her hurting him. He snorted inwardly. No, of course not. Bucky could kill her in 101 ways in 5 minutes just using his fingers.

And _that_ was the problem.

He was scared of _himself._

They stayed there for a while before Bucky released a deep breath. Summer felt so good in his arms. So perfect. So surreal.

So he asked, still a little dopey from his sleep. “Are you real?”

Summer let out a small laugh, the sound amused and light. “Uh huh, I think I am.”

His shoulders sagged happily. “Okay.” He whispered softly, breathing evenly against Summer. “I was just… I was just worried that…” _that you were too good to be in this world. That you were just a figment of my imagination. Because I have done nothing to deserve this._

_And you have done nothing to deserve this—all this mess, all this terror from the very arm on my shoulder to my perpetually fucked mind._

“Never mind.” He ended instead. He slowly and reluctantly released Summer, breathing in deeply one last time to catch her scent. Summer shivered a little, maybe it was because Bucky’s arm was cold.

“Sorry,” he apologized. Summer made no movements to do anything. “Y-you should go… don’t want the rest to see us like this.” Bucky had meant it in a self-depreciating way, but Summer seemed to misinterpret as she jumped up as if caught sinning and fumbled to stand straight. God she was such a klutz.

_An adorable one at that too._

“Right.” She said before rushing towards the door. Not that her rushing was really all that fast, with those short legs of hers and her stumbling. It was no fair. No fair to Bucky at all.

Until he suddenly had an idea.

“Summer?” He made his voice soft and sweet, and maybe a little shy, but that wasn’t feigned; the way his voice had been when he made that nurse blush.  

“Mm?”

He bit his lip, half meaning to make her blush, while the other half was because he was wondering what on earth he was doing. He went on with it, though, possibly because that was just what Summer does to him. Tentatively, he gave her a smile, a real one, for the first time ever, letting his eyes fall down onto his lap before eyeing up at her from under his dark lashes, still a little clumped together from the tears. Well. It had to do for now. “Thanks.” He murmured.

Summer paused for a moment, before stumbling over a series of incoherent words before she fumbled to twist the door open, and then even more clumsily fell outside into the hallway. Bucky stifled his laugh as she flashed him a nervous smile and closed the door.

Bucky smiled contentedly as he snuggled back into his pillow, which still smelled softly of caramel.

Summer was not the prettiest girl Bucky has met. Not even close. Then why? Why was Bucky so royally screwed? Why when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Summer’s sandy locks, and her soft eyes and her small hands on his cheeks?

He smiled goofily. Whatever. All he needed to know was, _damn,_ being happy felt good. And for the first time since forever, he felt like he deserved good.

After all, sometimes when you repeat words long enough… they start believing it too.

\--

Bucky had 3 and a half hours of sleep before he woke up again at 6:30, but it was best sleep he’s had in a while. Feeling hot, he had stripped out of his cotton shirt and decided to head to the gym to work out for a bit.

When he was done, it was nearly eight. He took a shower, and was surprised that Steve was still asleep. The debriefing must have gone on for quite a bit.

He decided to cook breakfast. He’d always liked cooking, even before the war. He enjoyed cooking even with the little supplies he could afford and would always give Stevie a taste or even bring over his newest recipe over to Sarah. The thought of the beautiful lady who died too soon made him smile sadly as he cracked the eggs. She had loved Bucky’s cooking.

She had loved Bucky.

Bucky heard her before he saw her. Her footsteps were loud and he was once again reminded of how untrained she was. Unless she was doing it on purpose.

Bucky shook his head. This was him being trained _too much_. Even after what she did last night, he seriously still thought of her as a potential threat?

_She wasn’t._

Bucky felt her eyes burning into his naked back.

_Right?_

“Good morning,” He decided to greet, turning his head a little to look at Summer. Her hair was ruffled, lips parted and red and eyes wide and confused. He watched her hastily rub her eyes and comb her fingers through her knotted hair. He turned around so he could hide his smile to himself.

“Hi,” She squeaked back, after discreetly coughing for a few times.

“Sleep okay?” Bucky asked. She looked dead-beat tired, like she hadn’t slept at all. Did she? Oh no. Did he keep her awake?

“Uh,” She stumbled over her words before carefully picking out, “Yes.”

Bucky frowned. “What?” He asked, concerned. “Bed not up to your standards?”

“No, no!” She answered quickly. “The… the bed was too soft,” She admitted. “I slept with the blanket on the floor.”

Bucky nodded understandingly. “I was the same. I’ll ask for Tony to replace it with a harder bed.”

Her eyes widened. “No!” She said quickly. “It’s fine! I’ll get used to it! No need to fuss over it!”

“Summer.” He said assuredly. “You need your sleep.” She still looked uncertain. “Hey, we don’t need a moody bitch around, right?”

Summer nodded slowly. Bucky smiled. He concentrated to cooking, making sure to add some spices is he grabbed a plate and placed it front of where Summer was sitting by the counter. He grabbed the pan, pushing out the breakfast food onto the plate. Summer looked surprised. What? Had she really thought he would just cook for himself and let her watch him eat?

_Idiot._

The affectionate tone in his head made him pause for a moment before he smiled secretively and gave Summer a look.

“Eat,” He explained. He grabbed a fork and spoon and handed it to her. Summer reached out gingerly and took it. Their fingers brushed together. Bucky had to try very hard not to let her see how affected he was. He turned back around quickly to cook his meal.

Summer had waited for Bucky’s food to be done cooking before starting to eat. He found the gesture cute.

Summer had to stop and chew for longer periods of time, or drink water to help her swallow, not used to eating so much and so well. Bucky didn’t mind. He thought it was endearing.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice sounded as Bucky looked up. “Good morning.”

“Hi,” Summer replied, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky waved at Steve.

“You’re up late,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Steve winced as he sat beside Summer. “Debriefing went a little… long.”

He gave a meaningful look to Bucky and the latter paused. He gave Steve a look, making sure Summer wasn’t looking, that said ‘what’s wrong’?

Steve mouthed, _“Phil knows.”_

Before Bucky could respond, the elevator dinged and Natasha stepped out. She was looking unfairly gorgeous as always. Her red hair was loose, her green eyes bright.

“Hey boys,” She greeted. “Hey Summer.”

“H-hi,” Summer replied, obviously intimidated by the redhead. Bucky wished he could reassure her that Natasha had that effect on almost everybody.

Natasha gave Bucky a quick look. “Hey, Summer. Good sleep?”

“Mm,” Summer said assuredly. Bucky raised an eyebrow. She seemed to be a better liar now, unlike the stammered response she’d given Bucky just now.

“Good.” Natasha said as she shimmied up onto a stool. “Hey, why don’t I show you around? The tower’s got some pretty cool stuff. It’s got a theatre, even.”

“Um,” Summer’s eyes darted to Bucky’s and for a second he thought she was asking for permission, asking if Bucky allowed so. That thought sent something dangerous down Bucky’s body and an even more dizzying image into his mind. _Fuck_.

Thankfully, before something embarrassing could happen, she quickly turned back to Natasha though. “Sure. I should just… probably take a shower,” She winced, reminded once again of her dishevelled form. She dug her fingers through her hair.

“No problem. I’ll wait for you here. I haven’t taken breakfast anyway.” Natasha shrugged. Summer nodded and quickly dashed off to her room.

“Go on,” Natasha murmured as she picked up a fork to finish the bacon on Bucky’s plate. He nodded and turned to the elevator, where Steve was waiting for him.

\---

They were in a meeting room as they spoke. Steve requested Friday to turn off audio just in case.

Steve began to tell Bucky about what went down. Phil telling Steve about him knowing. No surprise. And then about him propositioning.

“They took some blood for tests which they got when she was unconscious,” Steve explained. “They said there was something off about it. Too much white blood cells, even more than that of a wounded person. They think maybe Hydra planted something.”

Bucky frowned. “So, what, now they want to do more blood tests?”

“And a DNA test.”

“And they’ll be off our backs.” Bucky said.

“Yes,” Steve confirmed. “Summer can stay and everything as long as we do the tests, and file reports every week.”

Bucky felt uneasy. “But,” He tried. “But we were supposed to… protect her.” He finished lamely. What else was he supposed to say?

“And we are.” Steve tilted his head. “These tests are just going guarantee what we know—that she’s just a kid, an orphan, who didn’t get registered. We’ll just tell her that, tell her S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to know for sure. She wouldn’t mind. If that’s the truth.”

Bucky stared at his fingers hard. What if… what if she turned out to be someone she claimed she wasn’t?

What was Bucky going to do then?

Forget her?

Kill her?

And then what?

Who was he kidding? The whole world except for himself, apparently. Joke’s on them. Bucky’s never been strong. Not as the kid from Brooklyn, not as the Winter Soldier, not as this fusion of both in the 21st century.

That has always been Steve. It has always been him picking fights with bullies in back alleys, him fighting for justice willingly and with so much courage in the war, him who had selflessly planted a plane into ice even when the love of his life was waiting for him, and him out of his suit, still doing what he thought was right.

And if killing her was right?

Bucky’s fingers began to shake. What if they _made_ him kill her? He clenched his fist tightly. He was not that strong. Never had been. Never will be.

“Buck?” Steve asked.

“It’s just some blood.” Bucky nodded, voice breathless. “Just… get it done fast.”

\---

S.H.I.E.L.D. did not like wasting time either. Before noon, a man and a woman had already been sent to the tower, Friday announcing their arrival in an armed car, to do the tests. They were dressed in pristine coats and showed a badge upon entrance, proving they were doctors from S.H.I.E.L.D.

They set up their tools quickly in Bruce’s lab, and soon, all they were waiting for was the patient.

Bucky felt something awful in his stomach, clawing against it, but he decided to blame it on his general disliking towards doctors and labs and those white coats.

However, things became a little worse when Summer was brought in. Her eyes were wide in fear and confusion.

“W-what?” She said as the doctors wordlessly sat her down on a seat tugging on her sleeve. She glared at her and pulled her hand angrily away, hiding it from the nurse as he scowled. “What’s this?”

“It’s just a blood test, miss,” The woman said, trying to soothe her. “Nothing to worry about. We’re professionals, and it won’t hurt at all.”

Summer frowned, eyebrows knitting. “Blood?”

“Yes miss.”

Summer looked down at her lap, eyes hard as her fingers fidgeted. Her posture had changed. Slouched. Protecting herself from predators. “N-needles?” She asked in a small voice.

“Yes miss. Just a small one.”

Bucky noticed the way she tensed her shoulders. She was scared.

Bucky ignored the gut-clenching feeling of wanting to go in and comfort her the way she had comforted him last night. It was just a fear. People had fears, right? A lot of people are afraid of needles.

She’ll be fine.

_She has to be._

“Wait!” She said, the doctors pausing. “C-can I have something to…” Summer began. “Hold?”

“Here,” The lady gave her something round to grip. She looked at it.

“S’ cold.”

The doctor was beginning to look impatient. “Well, it’s all we’ve got. Just hold it, it’ll warm up.”

Summer looked so painfully uncomfortable. Maybe she had a bad experience with needles.

“Can I hold a hand?” She blurted and then, suddenly—

She looked up at the cameras uncertainly, eyes wide and hopeful beneath lashes, and in the softest and doubtful voice Bucky’s heard her use, “B-Bucky?”

His heart thudded heavily.

“Don’t,” Natasha patted a hand against his chest. “She might be up to something.”

Bucky’s always been impressed at the Widow’s ability to detach herself from emotion. Impressed, and a little worried.

Bucky nodded stiffly, using all he’s got not to storm in there and offer her his arm, his hand, anything. “Just let me say something,” he bargained. Natasha nodded and allowed him to move to the intercom.

“Don’t worry, Summer.” He said firmly as he pressed down on the button. “It won’t hurt. You can do it.”

Summer was still shaking. She was begging with her eyes. Bucky felt his willpower crumble. He shut his eyes. Opened them. Recalibrated his arm.

“You trust us, don’t you?” His voice sounded steely even to himself.

Summer looked surprised at that. For a second Bucky thought she was going to scowl and say no. But then, her eyes fell back down on her lap and, after a long moment, she nodded slowly.

“Yes,” She whispered. Defeated.

Bucky felt awful as he silently moved back until his back hit the wall. The room suddenly felt too small.

She looked shaky still for a while but let out a deep breath and closed her eyes, pinching them tight. “Do it,” She said. The woman gave a look that said, _finally._

They put gel on her forearm as she shakily breathed.

“Relax,” The woman assured as she took the needle with steady hands. “I’m doing to do it now okay…”

The needle pierced into her skin. It was quick. Bucky felt relieved. _You did good, Summer._

At least, she did, until her body suddenly slackened as the needle was removed, the rounded object falling onto the floor with a thud as her head lolled to one side.

Fuck.

What has he done?

\---

“What did you do to her?” Bucky growled, flesh fingers tightening around the man’s neck, nails digging into his flesh, knowing if it were metal, he would be dead already.

“I didn’t,” He choked against him, hands clawing against the still tightening grip.

“Soldier,” Natasha barked. Bucky turned his head. She had scooped Summer into her arms. “Stop.”

Bucky turned back around, noticed the man’s pale face and dropped him, scowling.

“We didn’t do anything,” The female doctor said as she grabbed Bucky’s arm hurriedly.

Bucky gulped as he painfully turned to watch Natasha bring Summer out of the room.

If he had just said no… or just went in… Just let her hold his hand…

“I know,” He whispered as he looked away from the doctor, afraid of her seeing his eyes. He avoided the metal plate carrying the blood sample too. He swallowed thickly. “I know.”

\---

Summer woke up hazily and sat up. Bucky watched her as she looked around, confused.

“What happened?” She slurred.

Steve smiled as he placed a hand on Summer’s. “You passed out after the shot.”

Summer blinked, regaining her memories. “Oh.” She whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Steve said as he helped to lower Summer back down on the bed. He pressed on the remote, reclining it so it was easier to talk. “It’s not your fault.”

Summer huffed. “It is.” She insisted. “I made a big deal out of it.”

“It’s okay,” Steve assured. “Are you afraid of needles?”

Summer paused, carefully picking out her words. “I… I’ve got bad memories asso… associated with it.”

Steve nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Summer bit her lip. “If you want to hear it. It’s not nice. Not very pretty.”

“That’s fine.”

Summer played with her fingers, eyes avoiding Steve’s.

“I was young, in high school. Friend got me a fake ID. Well, it wasn’t really a friend, actually. Just someone I knew…” Summer sucked in a deep breath. “Someone I bought my stash from.”

Steve rubbed his thumb over hers. Not judging at all. People make mistakes. “Go on.”

“He got me in and he said… he said he knew someone, and he said he and his friends had a VIP room, and he said I was the kind of girl his crowd was looking for. He said, and I listened, so I went with him. The lights were bright and I knew his ‘crowd’ would be doing something expensive, snorting some good coke, I thought, so I went.” She sounded bitter. Her fingers were digging into her knuckles now.

Bucky wanted to say something. Do something. Uncurl them. It’d make him a hypocrite, but it’s not him holding her. It’s not him comforting her. It’s not him she’s wanting to hear this. Not him she’s wanting to be held by. So he keeps his mouth shut, his arms by his side.

“They were doing drugs, alright, but it was heroin. I’ve never done it. Heroin is easy to get hooked on. I knew he would want me to buy it from him over and over again. So I said no. I didn’t have the money. At first he said, oh cool, okay. Everyone started doing it. Then someone spiked my drink. Real badly. We were takings shots too, and I loved my tequila, so imagine that. When I regained some form of consciousness, there was a cloth tied around my arm.”

Steve breathed in deeply.

“I told them to stop, they didn’t care. They forced me down, and in came the needle.” Summer snorted. “Heroin works fast. Couple of seconds, euphoria starts surging down your spine and you’re doped by the first 30 seconds. You feel heavy, you feel light, and you feel _good_. Everything’s so slow around you. You literally cannot think about anything except for how much it feels so good.” Summer breathed, shutting her eyes.

“And then I liked it. I hated it but I liked it.” Summer breathed, titling her chin up. “When the world stopped spinning and lights stopped looking like waves, I found myself tied up again. One more, they said. One more, and I all could think was how good it was and—fuck!” She suddenly cried out as she buried her head in her hands.

There was a pause as Summer laughed humourlessly. “That’s why I hate needles.”

Steve immediately scooped Summer into his strong arms, holding her tight.

Bucky wished he was the one doing that instead. That it was Bucky surrounding her and her hugging him back.

_But you’re not. You’re not, you’re not, you’re not, and guess what? She’s not._

He stood up slowly from his chair and slid out of the room like a shadow. He gave one last look as Summer’s small body, engulfed by Steve and breathed.

And then he left.

She deserved someone like Captain America, not him. Not some perfect soldier who could never be able to give her anything but coldness, _almost’_ s and a heart too broken and ugly to try to fix hers.

\----

Summer trusted Steve.

Summer was willing to tell him all about her past.

Summer was quick to throw herself into his arms too.

Summer _liked_ Steve.

And Bucky could do nothing but watch because Summer _deserved_ someone like Steve. Someone who actually wanted to help the world without a motive. Someone who would protect Summer. Someone _good_.     

Bucky was angry. Boy was he fucking livid. He was livid and he was bitter. He wanted to scream at the world for their taunting, he wanted to shout at ask them why him? Why this? Why give him hope only to tear it all down?

Why give the Winter Soldier a taste of Summer only to take it all away?

The world did not reply.

So, instead, Bucky decided to rebel. He punched a wall. And then he broke a lamp. He screamed and dismantled the TV.

Then he lied down on his bed, suddenly very quiet.

Everything would be okay. Bucky has had worse. The Winter Soldier than gone through things much more horrible.

Of course he’ll make it out alive.

But maybe he just wouldn’t want to.

He silently looked around him. He was calmer now. Still angry, still bitter as hell, but calmer. He wondered what it meant, finding tranquillity in destroying things. Maybe he should see his therapist again. Maybe he had anger management problems. Maybe the Hydra buried in him, maybe _he_ was coming back.

Or, maybe, it was just because he had run out of space to destroy on his own skin, scratched and peeled raw and picked until it was bleeding a bright red.

It hurt but at least he wasn’t numb. He hated numbness. It reminded him of the cold. It reminded him of winter.

Bucky curled up into a small ball on his bed. He wanted to cry, but he had already bled himself dry.

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yo! So, how did you like it? I would love a nice little comment telling me your opinions :P :) That would make me very happy, yes, yes, indeed, as I am a hungry little goblin that feeds off positive affirmations. 
> 
> I cut myself? Like surface scratches but I don't know?  
> I don't know why. Like, I don't do it do feel hurt or to kill myself. Sometimes, I'm not even upset, I'm just angry. I never get angry too easily usually, but with my family it's like, fuucckkk, I just get so angry sometimes, and I clench my fist and I really want to punch someone. I'm a masochist, I'm not kidding, I like it when I bleed. I punch myself in my arm sometimes just to see if I'll bruise. Oh God, there's something wrong with me, ahh.  
> But if you ever feel like you need to talk, hit me up. I promise I'll listen. I love people, I think they're fucking amazing. I don't know how to use tumblr but you can find me on kky-claud.tumblr.com. It's cold and lonely there, I thrive well.
> 
> Anyways, I really could use a comment because I feel like you guys might be feeling more disappointed with each chapter? Like it fails you? Tell me what you want to read, I'll feel super super happy and I promise I'll reply and update soon. Soon enough.
> 
> I always ramble so much but I love you guys; thanks so much for reading and sticking around. Also, suggest movies! 
> 
> Love you, gorgeous ;) <3  
> (gimme gimme that concrit)


	7. Chapter Seven: Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer hurts

“I’m going to use the washroom.” Summer finally relented, really unable to hold her bladder anymore. She had been wanting to use the washroom since this tour started, but who on earth has guts to tell this lady dressed in all black, who has been power-walking through rooms all morning in heeled combat boots that?

Natasha stopped briskly, turned around, and smiled. Gosh. Even her teeth were so fucking perfect. “Sure. I’ll wait. It’s right down the corner, next to the drawing room.”

Summer nodded obediently and dashed off in the said direction to relieve herself.

The toilet was very fancy (having a fucking toilet was already fancy, really) with marble floors so polished they could serve as mirrors. The sink was automatic and could sense if Summer stuck her hand underneath (which she giddily did so about twenty-three times). So was the soap dispenser. And the toilet paper. Summer was very fascinated at everything, but the thought of keeping the intimidating redhead waiting scared her more than the buttons beside the fancy toilet interested her.

Summer just came out of the toilet, hands warm from the drying machine thing when a hand suddenly grabbed her by the arm in a swift motion.

“What the fuck?” she shouted as she tried to free her hands. She seriously needed to learn some self-defence. She nearly laughed at the thought. She was living with a bunch of superheroes. They could probably teach her. Hmm. Would… Bucky? Be willing?

Imagine that… his long fingers against Summer’s, fist wrapping around hers, showing her how to properly deliver a punch, all whilst his front pressing into her back…

Suddenly caught up on a pair of stormy grey-blue eyes that she has already been quick to memorize, she lost focus. _Not the time!_ She scolded herself and continued to trash in the man’s arm, wringing about ungracefully. She wasn’t entirely panicking, knowing she was safe here, in the tower. But why the hell would there be a random man waiting to grab her outside of the toilet? Creep.

“Natasha?” She tried to call out as the man dragged her away. There was no reply. “Natasha!”

He brought her to a lab on the same floor. Two doctors, both in white coats, awaited. Summer hated doctors. Those pristine white coats, empty promises of ‘it’ll be okay’ and ‘it won’t hurt at all’s. Their certificates and top-notch little brains. She just didn’t like them.

“What,” She began as she saw all the different medical supplies set up on a table beside a chair. “What’s this?”

She was pushed carelessly onto the chair as a woman took her sleeve and began to roll it up. “Watch it,” Summer  growled, baring her teeth at her instinctively and angrily pulled it away. God she needed to stop acting like a rabid animal. “What’s this?” She repeated ferociously.

“It’s just a blood test, miss,” The doctor explained, already trying to reach for her arm again. “It’s nothing to worry about. We’re professionals. It won’t hurt, at all.”

Summer felt something like bile in her throat. Blood test?  An unsettling feeling has set itself into her stomach. “Blood?” She pronounced, the word feeling thick on her tongue.

“Yes, miss.”

Summer darted her eyes darting to the side, her breath hitching, her heartbeat starting to kick up. “N-,” She forced the word out, glaring at the lady, “Needles?”

“Yes miss,” The lady repeated. “Just a small one,” She assured.

Summer hated needles.

_“Just try.” They whispered._

_“No!” Summer glared back._

_But they didn’t understand ‘no’. Summer learned that not many people do._

She glared hard at the needles that sat on a metal tray, taunting her. Maybe if she glared hard enough it’ll just disappear. Imagine that.

“Can I have something to hold?” She asked hoarsely instead when they didn’t.

“Here,” The doctor passed her a metallic cylinder. She winced as she took it. She had expected something more… well. Something more.

“But,” She began, “It’s cold.”

The woman looked like she was going to roll her eyes. “Well,” She forced through clenched teeth. “It’s all we’ve got. Just hold it. It’ll warm up.”

Summer didn’t want to wait for it to warm up. She frowned and shut her eyes. When she opened them, she noticed the camera by the corner of the room. It was flashing red. She calmed herself down.

Bucky. Bucky would understand.

_Right?_

A soft voice in the back of her head reminded her, _he was the one who saved you after all, remember?_ Something in Summer’s heart swelled happily…. Proudly. _Her_ saviour. He had valued her life, and saved it. Feeling more confident, she glanced at the doctor.

“Can,” She began again and she swore the doctor was desperately wanting to just stab the needle into her. Jesus, why are they so impatient? “Can I hold a hand?” She requested. She looked at the camera, praying to God he would see her plea. She sucked in a deep breath. “Bucky?”

There was a harsh silence. Summer’s heart was pounding. A second passed. Disappointment flared through her as she looked back down at the metal cylinder. Okay. She’d made do her whole life. Maybe she could close her eyes and pretend its Bucky’s metal hand.

But, suddenly, a voice sounded. “Don’t worry, Summer.” It sounded authoritative. Bucky! Summer felt a little better already as his deep voice. “It won’t hurt,” _lie,_ “You can do it.”

Summer paused. Bucky believed in her. He believed she could do it.

 _Bucky believes in me, he believes in me,_ she thought repeatedly to herself, wishing that his blue-grey eyes would be enough to cover those horrible images she had associated with needles. Those images…

_Vomit, tons of it. Hours spent by a toilet bowl. Headaches, pounding migraines, and—God…_

_That… fucking… desire…_

_More. Summer wanted more._

_She couldn’t even fucking look at a needle the same way… she just wanted… she just_ wanted.

_“Just a taste, just a bit, just gimme,” A voice that sounded so coarse she couldn’t even recognize that it was hers._

_“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” A cackle. “Money, money…”_

_“I’ll pay, I’ll pay,” A desperate nodding. “I’ll… I’ll even work for you…”_

_“Is that right?” He knelt to be on eye level with her. He cooed as he touched her. “You heard that, boys? She’ll work for me! You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”_

_“Mm hmm,” Disgust. Waves and waves of disgust washed over her. “Anything.”_

_But what the fuck else did she have to lose? Money? The scraps left of her self-preservation? The last shred of her dignity? Fucking joke. There’s literally nothing left of that._

_“Good girl.” He smiled. “Okay… let’s give you your dose, kay, baby girl?” In his hands was a needle. Summer’s eyes were trained on them desperately with want._

_“Yeah…” She nodded, her previous thoughts already flying out the window…_

Her breathing became uneven again as flashes of blurred red and blue entered her mind, blending into in each other. She suddenly felt woozy. Like she was drunk.

Like she was _fucking high_.

She nearly choked as she grounded herself to Bucky’s voice.

“You trust us.” Pause. “Don’t you?”

Summer froze. She… she…

Trust? Summer never knew he feeling of trust, but—

She did. Yes. She did. She trusted… him. Bucky.

Bucky will never hurt her. Bucky wasn’t like anything Summer’s ever encountered. Bucky was… _good._

“Yes,” She whispered obediently. Her eyes watered as she dreaded the following procedure but she blinked it away. She trusted Bucky. Bucky would never hurt her.

“Do it,” She said, sticking her arm out.

_You trust us, don’t you? Don’t you? Don’t you?_

_Yes,_ she found the answer. _Please don’t break it… please don’t break me…_

Trust for Summer was hard, but when it does come, it comes hard. Irrevocably. _So does love._

“Relax,” the woman’s voice faded in and out of her ears as she closed her eyes, wishing the world would stop spinning. She suddenly felt like giggling. Whoa. Was she really high? _Already_? She knew it worked fast, but not so fast. She felt a sting in her arm. She wanted to giggle again.

“Stop it,” She wanted to say, but the euphoria was already in her. How familiar. Pain and pleasure is a combination, and there is no idea of telling where pain started and pleasure ended. Peaceful too.

She felt the stinging stop.

And at the same time, so did the world.

\---

Summer woke up not very certain where she was.

Summer hated waking up like this all the God damn time. She seriously needed to stop blacking out.

“What happened,” She mumbled incoherently as she sat up. Steve was sat beside her, smiling softly. Steve reached out a hand to grab Summer’s and she shivered at the warmth, not realizing how cold she was.

“You passed out after the shot.”

“Oh,” Summer swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Steve insisted. “S’ not your fault.” He gently pushed Summer back onto the bed but reclined it so she could still sit up.

Summer shook her head, smiling bitterly.

_But Bucky said I could do it…_

“It was,” She said firmly. “I made a big deal out of it.”

_I failed him._

“It’s okay,” Steve said comfortingly and even though Summer knew it wasn’t, she nodded tiredly at the star-spangled man with a plan. “Are you afraid of needles?” He asked.

Summer hesitated. “Well,” She looked down. “I’ve just got bad memories asso…” _what was the word again?_ “Associated,” _yes,_ “With it.”

Steve nodded understandingly, patiently. He was too good of a man, honestly. “Do you want to talk about it?” He offered kindly.

Summer was tempted to just say no. She would’ve, usually. But maybe it was this feeling, _trust_ , they called it, that she felt that made her wanted to… open up. “If you want to hear it,” She began. “I mean. It's not nice. Not very pretty.”

“That’s fine.” Steve smiled. He had blue eyes too. But his were greener.

Bucky’s ones were blue and grey like the blend between a calm ocean offering serenity and a darkening sky, brewing up a storm. And maybe Bucky’s were a little colder, but maybe that’s why Summer loved it so much.

Summer looked away from his eyes and fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

And she began to tell her story. She omitted some bits, the bits too dark for someone like Steve.

Because he, someone like Steve, could never understand just why Summer the way she was. No, she would never burden him with that responsibility. People like Steve were better off without Summer.

_And so are people like Bucky, but I’m selfish. We’ve established it._

Summer was young in some sense of the word, but not in others. She’d done her fair share of bad things; enough to last her a lifetime, if fate would be so kind. But still, when she looked back, she was still too young to have been played like that. She was still a kid.

But he, he was older. He was a college drop-out. He was dark and had dishevelled hair and a charming wit; a liar’s tongue. He told Summer that a bad, _filthy_ girl like her would understand a soul as dark as his.

Maybe Summer was young, but she wasn’t stupid.

She was just _sad._

And along with drugs, he promised he could exchange money with happiness. So she did it.

Summer wasn’t very sure if the wooziness counted as happiness, but it was the closest she had ever been to the feeling so she kept doing it until she dug a grave so deep she only had one way to go.

She saw the sunlight now, but the memories still plagued her, haunted her. The wounds have closed, but the scars are still there, and they are so God damn taunting.

Steve’s hand captured hers and tugged on her fingers so they weren’t pressed so unforgivingly on her knuckles. She wanted to tell him to stop. That way, she could still ground herself with the pain, she wanted to argue. But she swallowed to released them. _Steve wouldn’t understand._ He wouldn’t understand why Summer was sick, was twisted like that.

She never knew talking about things like these were difficult, because she’d never done so. But it was. Difficult. Her mouth felt thick, her head felt wrong to be unravelling the front she puts to cover the darkest parts of herself.

The only positive part was that there were still darker bits yet.

“That’s why I hate needles,” Summer finished, feeling a little numbed, as if talking of the memories erased them as well. Not permanently, of course. That would be too easy. Nothing in the world was permanent. Not sorrow and not happiness.

Steve threw his big arms around her as she finished, and wrapped her up tightly in his embrace. He whispered how sorry he was to Summer and she sighed and melted into him, bringing her arms around him. She closed her eyes.

Steve was a good friend, but Summer wished it was Bucky’s warmth around her instead.

\--

“Hi,” Summer smiled as the door finally opened, revealing a disgruntled looking Bucky, his hair messy, and his shirt crumpled, a tired scowl on his face. Summer hid a smile. So he couldn’t sleep either. She wondered if it could be because of the same reason as hers. “Um. Can I come in?”

“Why?” Bucky said, and the words came out so harsh and clipped Summer had to try very hard not to look surprised. _Whoa._ “So you can trick me?”

“What?” Summer’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her voice incredulous. Bucky was looking a little scary right now. “What are you saying, Bucky? No, I’m not going to… trick you?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened and Summer tried not to flinch. She knew from the beginning that eyes like this that held such an unearthly beauty, but beauty nonetheless, could become something that could twist hearts and do something cruel, but she never thought he’d use it against her.

“You know, I really fell for it,” Bucky hissed underneath his breath, and he didn’t look just a little scary. He looked extremely scary. “Your little façade, feigning that vulnerability and fragility, that pretense of a character you use to _lure_ me…”

“I don’t know what you mean, Bucky, I’m not faking anything!” Summer defended loudly, trying to suppress her fear as she glared at Bucky desperately. She was offended that he would think that she would do all that, but… He was angry. Maybe Summer could calm him down. After all, she had soothed him from a nightmare; she could soothe him from this.

“Bucky,” She tried again, softer this time, trying to sound kind, imitating Steve’s intonation when he spoke to her. Summer hadn’t really known kindness, never been kind with anyone, not alone herself, but she would try, for Bucky. “I’m not playing any games,” She reached out to touch Bucky’s shoulders. Carefully, she started pressing against the hard muscles there, hoping to roll out the tenseness there. “I’m not—”

“Just stop, God damn it!” Bucky roared, swatting Summer’s hand away with his metal hand. Summer felt a hot stinging burn but she suppressed the pained hiss. _Fuck, that hurt!_

 _Bucky’s just angry, he’s just angry and he’s probably very upset and down right now. You’re not helping either._ Summer cradled her hand in her arm, covering the reddening patch of skin as she tried not to cower. _He probably didn’t realize because he’s upset… Bucky would never hurt you. You’ve just upset him._

Summer had never liked it whenever she made people angry.

Hated it, she realized, if the person was Bucky.

Bucky glared angrily at Summer, his eyes accusatory. She wasn’t sure why he was so enraged, but it must’ve been something that she had done. _Fuck!_ Why couldn’t she just do _anything_ right?

“Please don’t be angry,” She said softly, the pain the thought of losing the chance of having someone good like Bucky much more hurtful than the burning handprint on her arm. “I promise I can… I can do better…” Summer grabbed for Bucky again. She perked up. “I can do _anything_ you want—”

“Please, Summer, stop!” Bucky screamed at her, pressing his hands on her shoulder, shaking her desperately. "I know what game you’re playing at now, so stop—stop offering yourself like this!”

Summer swallowed, eyes hot, hands pressed to her chest. She felt lost, confused. He didn’t want that? _But…_ She thought fearfully, _isn’t that what… that’s the only thing… That’s the only thing left of me that I can give. That’s the only thing I can give that people actually_ want.

But not Bucky. Bucky didn’t want even that. Of course not. Bucky has—

Summer shook as she inhaled unevenly.

Bucky has _standards_.

He wouldn’t want damaged items. Summer was stupid for thinking he would. God. This is why Summer hated hope. It just made her stupid.

“Just stop, please. I’ve already found out.” Bucky’s words were gentler now, tired, but it still stung.

“Found out what?” Summer’s throat was dry.

Bucky let out a frustrated and bitter laugh. “Oh my God, are you still pulling the clueless card?” He shook his head, closing his eyes.  “Aren’t you fucking tired? ‘Cos I sure as fuck am!”

_He’s done. He’s done with me._

Of course, Summer knew he was going to get tired of her one day, but not this soon. Not this quick. _Please, not this quick… Please…_

Summer’s never been this close to heaven, and screw it if she was being selfish, but _please,_ not Bucky. The world could take everything from her, but not _him_.

“And, also,” Bucky barked out, “Don’t go and play Steve either. Don’t you dare use his ability to trust easily and quickly against him. Ruin me as you might, don’t ruin him, please.”

“But I’m not,” Summer gaped. “I’m not—Steve is a _friend!”_

“You know, Steve may seem to show some interest in you, but he won’t at all put _our_ safety first, and his country’s safety first.” Bucky said.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Summer begged. Not Steve _too_. Not everyone, not like this. “D-don’t tell Steve about it.”

“See,” Bucky’s voice was cold and hard and everything Summer had associated him with _not_ having, and she hated it. And the worst part was that _she_ had been the one who made him like that. She destroyed every single thing she touched. “I was right. Well, your mission is ruined now.”

“Y-you were never a mission,” Summer pleaded, but her words were meaningless now. Bucky hated her. He _hated_ her.

Summer would rather the whole world hate her, but please, just not _him_. Not Bucky. But, _fuck_ , he did. And it was all her fault.

“Bucky, please. You know me.” Summer tried again, trying not to cry. Big girls don’t cry. Big girls don’t cry. _Fuck,_ Summer, don’t fucking cry!

“Do I?” Bucky asked harshly and Summer closed her eyes.

Because he didn’t. Of course not. If he did… he wouldn’t still be here. Because Summer was sick, and she was twisted and she was everything he could never want.

“Just go to your room, Summer,” Bucky said. “And please, leave Steve alone. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Summer’s shoulders slumped as tears pricked her eyes. _He doesn’t deserve this. This. You._

“Y-you don’t either,” She agreed, defeated. Summer had tried to lie to herself, promising emptily futures filled with happiness with an impossibly beautiful man. But it’s gone now; the truth is out, and it hurts, but Summer could rather watch herself burn than Bucky, because he’s gone through so much, and he didn’t deserve it at all. “I’m sorry,” She backed away slowly. “I’ve wasted your time.”

Bucky said nothing at first.

“Don’t even try to escape.” He said.

Summer smiled bitterly, allowing those aged and crooked walls that have taken one too many blows to rise back up again. Well, it was fun while they were down until they couldn’t be anymore.

“Won’t.”

_As long as you’re here?_

_Never._

\---

_“Hey,” Kira said as she neared Summer. “Over there. Showed up in a sports car, wearing Armani.”_

_“He drunk yet?” Summer asked, tossing her hair backwards. She eyed the man. He was middle-age, with a big belly and a grubby looking face. He looked disgusting, but the gold watch on his meaty wrist glinted under the strobe lights coaxed otherwise._

_“Not yet.” Kira said before grabbing a drink on the table. She took a sip and groaned. “I reckon this’ll do it.”_

_“You’re letting me take him?” Summer asked curiously as she took the drink._

_“I owe you,” Kira waved her hand nonchalantly. “You gave that guy to me last night.” Kira leaned in close, filling Summer’s nose with her alcohol and sex smelling scent. “He was_ amazing _.”_

_“Mm,” Summer laughed. “Good to know. Wish me luck.”_

_“You ain’t need that.” Kira laughed boisterously and slapped Summer’s butt playfully as she headed towards the rich man. She adjusted her dress so it showed more cleavage. Her eye makeup was starting to feel disgusting but she ignored it as she hoisted herself up onto a chair._

_It only took about 2 seconds before the man started to pay her attention. How flattering._

_“Hey, pretty girl.” His voice sounded gross but Summer had dealt with grosser. “What’s a young thing like you doing here?”_

_Summer just have him a rebellious look. “I’m not a kid.”_

_“Yeah? How old are you?” The man challenged, eyes trailing up and down Summer like she was a piece of meat._

_“Old enough,” Summer purred. “You don’t believe me?”_

_“Not a chance.” The man whispered lowly as Summer gave him a show, sucking on her thumb sexually._

_“I can show you,” Summer took up the challenge and turned around. “Aren’t you going to order me a drink?”_

_“You sure that’s legal?”_

_“Why don’t you try and find out?” Summer said seductively, her hands moving up and down the man’s chest._

_“Okay. I think a pretty girl like you would suit a bloody Mary?” The man said and Summer scoffed._

_“A stronger one, please. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”_

_“If you say so.”_

_It was going well. Summer knew she could hold her own. After all, she’d been drinking shots since 14. She drank up whatever the man gave and in return she ordered the strongest drinks for him to down. The man was drunk by the time Summer got tipsy and she smiled._

_“You still think I’m a kid?”_

_“You bet,” The man smiled dirtily. His cheeks were flushed red by now, his belly growing impossibly bigger. “Why don’t you prove it… show me something else?”_

_“Yeah?” Summer whispered in his ear and nibbled on it, trying not to focus on his sweaty reek. “Come on, I’ll show you.”_

_Summer lead him through the throng of grinding people, making sure to give him those filthy, suggestive looks as she did to keep him interested. Not that she needed to. He probably hadn’t gotten none for a long time. He was easy._

_But then again, so was Summer, so she couldn’t complain._

_They made it out to the back alley and just as Summer turned around, the man had already pressed his body against hers, trapping her against the wall, kissing her fervently. He tasted like booze and saltiness and God, was he a bad kisser. Summer let him though, just let him run his hands all over her greedily and move his lips all over her exposed skin._

_In return, Summer dragged her fingernails down to his back pocket and moved her hands erotically until she felt the bulge._

Bingo, _she thought as she stealthily pulled out his wallet. She was just going to sucker punch the guy when he suddenly paused._

_“What are you doing, little girl?” The man asked as he grabbed Summer’s hand._

_“Hey, that hurts,” Summer whined before trying to kiss him. “Kiss me.”_

_“Nuh-uh,” The man grabbed the wallet from her hands, his eyes angry. “You been tricking me, little girl?”_

_“No,” Summer said innocently. “Of course not. I just—”_

_“Oh, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into,” He cackled and Summer’s blood ran cold as several other man appeared from around her. “I was going to bring you to my apartment, but you got greedy, didn’t you?”_

_“I just wanted you so bad,” Summer stuttered as the man clicked his tongue and extended his arm. One of his cronies placed something shiny in his hands. Summer’s breathing hitched as the man dangled it in front of her._

_“Then you wouldn’t mind if I did this right?” Before Summer could comprehend anything, the clasp had went around her wrist and had been clamped down._

_“Let me go,” Summer warmed as he chained it against a pole. “You fucker! Let me go!”_

_“Weren’t you just about to show me how big of girl you are?” He taunted as his hands moved against Summer’s body. “Don’t worry. I’ll make this feel so, so, so good. You’re a dirty whore aren’t you? You’ll love it…”_

_“Stop!” Summer said, trying to fight against him with one hand. “Stop!”_

_Summer’s breathing grew erratic and desperate._

_“Hey, hey, big girls don’t cry now, do they?” The man scolded as Summer felt wet streaks roll down her skin. “Shut up!” The man slapped her as she screamed louder. “Shut the fuck up little girl! You say you’re such a big fucking girl, hmm? Then prove it, yeah?”_

_“No,” Summer whispered. “No! Help! Somebody!”_

“Help!”

Summer suddenly felt the bounds against her wrists free. She gasped, inhaling deep breaths of air.

“Hey, Summer, breathe,” A deep voice murmured against Summer’s neck. B…Bucky? No, it can’t be. He didn’t want her anymore. He said so. He knew what she was now, and he would never want her again. “I’ve got you. Breathe with me, okay? Inhale… exhale… inhale… exhale…”

Summer followed the directions, breathing in and out until she could feel her heartbeat slow down. She took a deep shaky breath and—

Grapes. Grapes… and _plums?_

“Bucky?” She slurred. “Is that—is that you?”

He didn’t reply. Summer didn’t ask again. Just held him, let him hold her, her eyes pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her small frame.

“Let’s put you to bed, okay?”

Summer nodded tiredly as he picked her up easily and moved her to the bed. He tucked the blanket up to her chest.

“Hey?” Summer murmured groggily before he could leave. “Kiss… kiss me?”

He paused. And then slowly, almost uncertainly, he leaned down, letting his lips graze over the top of Summer’s nose. She let out a deep breath, instantly feeling better. She was safe now.

And then he was gone.

Summer knew then it couldn’t be Bucky, because he had made it clear he didn’t want Summer no more. But Summer could imagine. Summer could play pretend.

So for the sake of her own sanity, she did.

\--

Summer stepped out of her room, unable to take the quiet anymore. Her stomach was growling so loudly. She was _starving_ and even though she had gone for weeks of no food, it seemed like she had become greedy over the last few days.

She slid towards the kitchen, and was glad to see nobody there. “Yes,” She murmured under her tone and shuffled quickly towards the refrigerator. She opened it, and marveled at how humongous it was.

She wasn’t sure what to look for. Probably leftovers, if they had that. She rummaged for a bit before seeing—

“Holy cow,” She breathed, her mood already lifting when she saw the box of premium chocolates. It was from a brand called Godiva and it looked very expensive.

And—get this—it was _caramel_ flavored.

Summer smiled giddily and pulled it out, setting it on the counter. She tugged off the lid and her mouth watered at the selection offered in front of her. Just as she was about to take out a piece, a heart shaped one, a footstep startled her. She jolted and turned around quickly.

Blond hair, blue eyes. Steve.

There was a long, silent pause between them.

“Hey,” She greeted. “Look, can we talk?”

Steve made no movements. Summer took it as a yes. “I don’t know what Bucky told you, but it’s a misunderstanding… You believe me, right?”

Steve just blinked at Summer.

“Everything I told you, about Bea, about my addiction… it’s all true.” Summer tried again. “I’m Summer, I’m from the Bronx, I grew up in an orphanage and I go to your Smithsonian Exhibition sometimes cos its free, Steve.” She sighed. “The owner of my orphanage died, I have no parents, I mixed with the wrong people as a teen, so now I’m all fucked up and I live in a hut eating canned foods that I store up for winter like a fucking animal. Please.”

Steve looked at her for a second. “I have to go.” He said, his voice strained, before he turned and walked away.

“More for me, I guess,” Summer murmured quietly to herself, trying to tell herself it was okay if Steve didn’t care as she dug out the piece and threw it in her mouth. “Oh, wow, this is amazing…”

“Excuse me.” A deep voice halted Summer. She didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. There could only be one voice who could do that to her.

“Since when were you allowed to eat those?” He asked.

She looked down, feeling hot. “I can do what I fucking want to, thanks.” She scoffed.

“Funny.” He said smoothly back. “Technically we have full control over what you do because you’re considered by S.H.I.E.L.D. as a prisoner.”

Summer gulped, and turned around, eyes meeting Bucky’s . “Look, Bucky,” The word sent a twinge in her heart. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but can you just talk to me?”

“I won’t let you do this, Summer. If that’s even your name.”

Summer swallowed, heat rising up in her. “I wouldn’t know now would I? My parents weren’t around to tell me.”

“Still that story, huh?”

“Still a pompous fucking ass, I see. Should’ve known from my first impression of you.”

Suddenly, two digits encircled around her wrist. Summer’s breathing hitched as they tightened.

“I guess they do.”

“Let go,” Summer’s voice was strained. He was gripping harder now, and it hurt. “Let go, you dick!” She elbowed him, angry that he didn’t even let out a single grunt, feeling hot tears in her eyes. Why did she have to be so weak? Why? If she hadn’t been so weak, that night would have _never_ happened, if she weren’t so weak, she wouldn’t have felt so…

Scared. Summer is feeling fear, and she hated it. She hated that Bucky was the reason for it. _No…_ Bucky was supposed to make Summer feel safe. Not scared. Summer trusted Bucky, and she _liked_ it being that way. She _liked_ feeling that way.

“You’re not supposed to be like this,” Summer blubbered out. “You’re supposed to make it go away, not give it. ‘S not fair. You should be, be like you were. Like last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bucky said firmly and Summer sniffled. So it wasn’t him. Maybe it had been a figment of her imagination. Maybe everything was. Fuck, she didn’t even know what was what anymore. 

“I’m just hungry,” Summer whispered brokenly. “I’m just so hungry, please.”

“Well, you don’t deserve to eat that.” Bucky hissed next to her ears as she shut her eyes. No. Bucky can’t see her cry. _Big girls don’t cry, big girls don’t cry_. “You’re used to it, though, aren’t you? Or was that a lie? You living in a hut, eating cans only?”

Summer looked at the chocolates. Suddenly she didn’t seem to have an appetite at all. She closed the lid and turned around, avoiding those eyes as she shoved the box into his hands.

“Just take it,” She whispered as she fled back to her room. Well. Her prison, apparently. She paused as she was just about to leave the kitchen. “Just know I’m not whoever you think I am,”

“Then prove it,” was all Bucky said in return.

\---

Summer was restless in her bedroom. She kept moving her left foot. Her lip has been chewed and bitten until it was chapped and bleeding.

She tried to resist it, she really did, but it was hard because everything in the world seemed to be urging her to _do_ it.

Summer’s breathing was erratic, her lungs were strained, her throat flexed painfully as she tried to rid her ears of the voices that kept going and going. She plugged her fingers into her ears, chanting the words _stop_ , but they wouldn’t listen. They whispered garbled sentences, their words ugly, distorted, reminding Summer of herself.

_“Of course he hates you… you’re disgusting, revolting. Who would want you?”_

“No one,” Summer choked. “I know that. Just leave me alone!”

_“Not until you realize that you’re worthless. You’re not worth any of this! Someone like you, someone so full of sins and so foul should never even hope for something like this. Not until you know you’re place…”_

“You’re so loud,” Summer cried. “Please shut up, I know I’m useless, just shut up, shut up!”

 _“If you do know you’re worthless,”_ The voice hissed out. _“Why aren’t you doing anything about that?”_

Summer’s mouth parted, a sudden crave setting in her fingers, a yearning to _hurt, hurt, hurt…_

_“Come on, girl… he’d said prove it… what do you think he meant?”_

“No,” summer shook her head, “No, no, he didn’t mean that.” She repeated for the hundredth time, “He saw my life, valued it, and saved it. He doesn’t… he doesn’t…”

_“Prove to him…”_

Summer was only so strong, which was not at all. The voices got so loud and Summer couldn’t take it anymore. She numbly moved into the bathroom, legs shaking and mind blurry.

Summer had always liked art, but she never have anything to work on or with. Here in this tower, though, she found what she needed. In the medicine cupboard there was a brush, and on Summer’s skin there was a ugly painting. But she fixed it. With each stroke of her brush, the voices reminded her she was fixing the world. By destroying the ugly painting. She was doing something greater than herself.

And then, only when the voices stopped, and Summer was proud of her artwork, she set the paintbrush down.

She embraced the ache that settled in. She looked into the mirror.

Red. The painting was red now. Better.

The pain reminded her of reality, but even that didn’t seem like a good substitute for the nightmare with monsters who whispered words that was already echoing in her mind anyway.

But if reality was where he was, she’d take it.

\---

“Ms. Summer?” Friday asked.

“Yes?”

“There are wound dressings and disinfectants in the first aid kit.” Friday said after a short pause. She sounded concerned. She would be the first.

“Thank you, Friday.” Summer said.

She assumed Friday had meant for her to patch herself up, but Summer assumed many things and none of them seemed to be true, so she continued to lie on her bed, reminding herself pain was better than nothing. She just wished she had something better than pain.

Summer wasn’t sure what time it was. There could be an apocalypse outside and she wouldn’t even know. The windows were absolutely opaque now and there was a clock but Summer was too tired to look at it.

Yet, as tired as she was, she couldn’t seem to fall asleep.

Or maybe she didn’t want to, knowing well what would come with it.

“Friday?” She whispered.

“Yes, miss?”

“I’m,” Summer tugged the blanket against her chest, “I’m scared.”

There was a pause. “Of what?”

Summer opened her eyes. “I don’t know.” Her bottom lip trembled. _Don’t cry_. “I’m just s-so scared.”

“Well, the Avengers Tower is very safe ad reinforced. Nothing to worry about,” Friday ensured.

“It’s not what’s outside, Friday.” Summer blinked quickly.

“Are you afraid of the Avengers, miss?” Friday paused as Summer didn’t reply. “They won’t hurt you, I’m sure, miss.”

Summer’s smile was wobbly. “Thanks Friday,” She murmured as she sniffed. “But it’s not them either.”

\---

Summer tried the door.

“Friday, is it locked?” She asked incredulously. “Seriously?” She tugged again. “What the fuck?”

“Yes, Ms., your room is under total lockdown. Has been since an hour and 12 minutes ago.”

“Why?” Summer spluttered.

“You don’t have the clearance for that information unfortunately. It’s classified.” Friday said. Even her voice seemed to have gone cold. What was going on?

“Well, can you unlock it?” Summer asked impatiently.

“You cannot override the protocols, miss.”

“What protocols?”

“The protocols for prisoners, Ms.” Friday said apathetically and Summer’s heart fell. “Allow me to kindly remind you anything you do or say right now in the room is all recorded.”

Summer’s back slid down against the wall.

Suddenly she wished those German men in the forest had taken her life on that one stupid night. A bullet must hurt less than a blade, right? Faster?

Whatever. Later. She wanted to kill herself, sure, but she was too tired now. After all, anything she did would be recorded.

Then again, that idea sounded pretty appealing too.

Summer had issues. She was sick in the mind. Who cares? Nobody, it seemed.

\---

“Miss Summer,” Friday announced. “Mr. Rogers has requested your presence in the dining hall for dinner.” Friday paused.

Summer looked up from her corner, where she had tucked herself in. Her teeth were chattering. It had grown impossibly cold. “Do I have to go?”

“Yes, Miss, I do believe so.”

“Ten,” Summer said.  “Uh, ten, ten minutes, Friday.” She wobbled onto her feet and headed for the dresser filled with clothes that weren’t even hers. Summer bit her lip, faltering. “They… they aren’t going to hurt me… right?”

“Of course not Ms. Summer.”

“But,” Summer started again. “What if they just make me go there and then—and then they take me to a, um, a torture chamber?”

“I’m certain that wouldn’t happen.”

Summer’s breathing sharpened. _What if Friday’s in on it too?_

What if—What if they were going to hurt Summer? Or maybe they’d beat her up until she told them about what she heard, or-or maybe—maybe they’d—

Her worst fears.

They knew all of them now. All they had to do was to use them.

She suppressed her whimper. _What you say is recorded_. Her fingers were shaking prominently now but she made a fist. _What you do is recorded_. Her breathing hitched she reached into the dresser for a long sleeved shirt and jeans. The clothes scratched against her open wounds but she couldn’t really care. She was too scared to really care.

The second Summer stepped into the dining room, everything became silent. Her eyes went straight to him; she couldn’t even begin to help it.

He looked beautiful, Summer noted. All soft and cuddly, with his hair tied back and his body wrapped in a comfortable looking hoodie and sweatpants.

 _Longing_ , this feeling was. Summer knew, for she longed for many things. Never romance, never a person to hold and to hold her, though. But like everything else she longed for, it was a fantasy. In other words, a lie.

He looked healthy. Good. Apparently Summer’s absence hadn’t impacted him quite as his had impacted her. That’s okay. Summer would take the pain over him, any day. A hundred million times, she’d chose the same option again and again.

There was one open spot, between a Tony Stark and Natasha. She slowly moved there, eyes darting around, waiting for any prowling beasts to jump out of the shadows suddenly and attack her. She sat down carefully.

It was very quiet until Tony spoke. “Okay,” He drawled out before turning to look at Summer pointedly. Her breath hitched. “Let’s get right to it shall we?”

“I—” Summer looked down. “I don’t know— what, I mean, I didn’t—I’m not, uh, please don’t,” She breathed sharply. “Please, no, no pain, I don’t want to, I’m so scared, I promise, please.” Her eyes are wet and hot. _Oh, no, don’t cry, don’t cry._ “I’m sorry,” She spluttered, hands furiously rubbing away at her eyes. “Oh, I’m so-sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I,” She inhaled unevenly, clawing against her eyes. _Stop crying, stop crying_.

_God, I can’t breathe…_

“Summer, Summer,” Steve’s warm hand was clasped around Summer’s. “Hey, Summer, breathe.”

She gulped down the air as told.

“Hey, don’t be scared. We just want to talk, okay? Nothing scary.”

Summer calmed down a little bit but she quickly pulled away her hand from Steve. What if he was trying to hurt her? He was tricking her! Summer glared at him and moved away.

“She’s fooling you guys again,” A voice. Summer knew that voice. That was voice—that voice-

That voice was safe.

Summer looked up, eyes wide.

“Bucky,” She breathed. “Bucky.” Her shoulders slumped in relief. Bucky was here now. Bucky was going to _save_ Summer. He’s done it before, Summer remembered. She smiled, eyes filled with awe, blinking up at her saviour. No one else’s. Hers.

But Bucky’s eyes all but glared at her. Summer frowned.

“Bucky,” Summer whispered, hands reaching out for him. “I know, I know the voices, I know they said bad stuff about me,” She shook her head wildly. “They aren’t true, I promise they aren’t. The voices are just mean, they just like to lie, and I don’t know why they just say bad stuff—”

_“We tell the truth.”_

“Ah,” Summer clapped her hands over her ears, eyes wide. “They’re saying it again. Close your ears, close your ears.”

When Bucky didn’t do as told, Summer frowned and crawled out of her seat, over the table, uncaring of the sharp cutleries and smiled at Bucky heroically. “Here,” Summer removed her hands and winced when the voices started to whisper again. She quickly put her hands over Bucky’s ears and smiled again softly. “There. Can’t hear it now right?”

_“But one day he will…”_

“Shh! Don’t scare him!” Summer hissed out angrily. She turned back to Bucky, who looked up at Summer with wide eyes. “You’re okay now,” She said quietly, proud this time she was the one who saved him. She beamed and kissed Bucky’s forehead gently. “I’ve got you.”

The voices were loud, and Summer felt like her ears were bleeding, but Bucky was safe, and that was all that mattered to her.

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how'd you like it? :D  
> I'm on vacation, so the next update might be a little later. Not too late though; I won't be so cruel. Comments fuel me ;)   
> Chapter 8 is written, but to be edited and also I'd like to get Chapter 9 completed before I put it up, so. 
> 
> Here's my rambling column for this chapter: I wish I could love my mom. I seriously, solemnly swear I do. I read about people's amazing connection with their moms and it sounds amazing. I try hard, I honestly do, and I feel like a horrible child. I can't help it that when I walk in front of her I'm so aware of my size, my air, the way I carry myself, the way I fucking breathe because she thinks it's a deformity that I breathe through my mouth, because mom, please, I cannot breathe through my nose, I can't breathe, I lose my breath, I feel asthmatic. I can't help that when I knock into her chair in the morning the first thing I do is brace myself for her yelling at me for being so fucking big and so clumsy. I wish my friends would comfort me when I mention about her but all they say is how nice my mom seems. I told one of my friends I have to start breathing through my nose. They said, oh, yeah, you should; you look ugly breathing with your mouth.  
> Dearest Fangirls_Unite, thank you, utterly, for leaving me that comment on the last chapter. I'm not too sure if you saw my reply, but I would love if I could talk to you. Find me [ Here](www.kky-claud.tumblr.com). Or leave an email at kkyclaudia@gmail.com. Thanks for reaching out. 
> 
> To everyone else, sorry for the humongous ramble. I love you all so much for reading, as writing is such an incredible passion to me. Thank you for allowing me to share my works, my passions, and bits of my souls. 
> 
> Til next time.


	8. Chapter Eight: Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is messed up but he tries really hard
> 
> (this chapter includes other POVs)

Steve was in the gym, taking a break on his phone, the poor punching bag that had succumbed to his improbable muscles lying uselessly on the floor, when he turned and was surprised to see Bucky standing there, stock-still, with wide, unfocused eyes rimmed with red.

“Buck?” Steve asked, standing up immediately. God, he was as pale as a ghost. “Buck, what’s wrong? Can you hear me?”

“Summer,” Bucky just replied in an empty voice. “I hurt… I hurt Summer.”

Steve neared Bucky slowly, careful not to make any sudden noises. It has been months since Bucky had a panic attack, at least one that Steve knew of. He reminded Bucky to breathe, inhaling deeper himself so he could follow suit, and asked Friday if he had been taking his medication.

He wasn’t quite too sure how to react when she told him that he had been, and maybe even a little too much.

Steve gingerly took Bucky’s curled fist, and pried open those fingers, rubbing his thumbs across the crescent indents left there. “Let’s go somewhere else, okay? Can you walk, buddy?”

Steve helped him to the kitchen, where he propped him up on a stool before moving behind the counter. He made sure to keep an eye on him as he rummaged through the cabinet, breathing loudly in long even breaths just so Bucky could remember to do so as well.

The cabinet was stocked with different tea leaves. No one really touched them except for Steve, the other Avengers relying more on coffee and ibuprofen to nurse their headaches and hangovers—even though Steve often chided them, saying caffeine is bad for hangovers. But Steve really did like his tea, liked to learn the different medicinal properties and benefits. He grabbed for the chamomile leaves, having read online it didn’t have caffeine and had soothing abilities. Lavender was suggested too, but Bucky had never liked the smell of the gentle flower.

“Here,” Steve said as he set the steaming cup in front of Bucky, who still sat in an empty stupor. Steve took his hand again, opening it up, tenderly rubbing his palm before directing it towards the mug. “Careful. It’s hot. Don’t want to burn your tongue.”

“Hot,” Bucky murmured as he wrapped both hands around the cup. He blinked up with a confused look at Steve. “I’m cold.”

“I know, Bucky,” Steve said patiently. “So, drink up. It’ll warm you.”

Bucky nodded and took the cup, sipping it. He set it back down. “I like it,” He said matter-of-factly. Steve smiled.

“Yeah? Good. I hoped so.”

Bucky continued to take small, careful sips, eyes darting around periodically, checking for intruders. He started to shiver less, colour returning to his face. Steve sighed. “Wanna talk about it, Buck?”

Bucky stared at his cup, one flesh finger tracing the circular opening. He pursed his lips. “Summer hates me,” He whispered miserably.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Mm hmm,” Bucky nodded certainly.

“And why’s that?”

“Cos I hurt her?” Bucky said, frowning, clearly angry and upset with himself.

“And why would you do that?”

Bucky flushed, eyes avoiding Steve’s. He mumbled something so quick and softly that even Steve couldn’t pick it up. “What’s that, Buck?”

“Cos I was jealous,” He forced out, face getting positively as red as a tomato.

Steve spluttered in disbelief. “Jealous? Of what?” Bucky started picking on his fingers. Steve gave him an unapprovingly look and he pouted, spreading out the fingers and setting them on the counter obediently. “Bucky, of what?”

Bucky mumbled something again and Steve gave him a scolding look. “Speak up.”

“Of you,” He said unwillingly, ducking his head behind the porcelain mug, though the flashy red on his face was too obvious to be hidden.

Steve laughed loudly. “What? Of _me?_ Why on earth would you be jealous of me, Bucky? This _is_ Steven Grant Rogers we’re talking about right?”

“Cos, she likes you,” Bucky said, the sentence coming out not as a firm statement.

“No, she doesn’t,” Steve deadpanned. “Bucky, the girl is head over heels for you. You’re such an idiot, James Barnes.”

“Shut it, punk,” Bucky scowled, embarrassed. He drank his tea before slowly peeking up at Steve, the pink on his cheeks coming back. “You really think so?”

\---

Bucky was going back to his room, still feeling the warmth from the tea (and the flush on his cheeks), when he heard the soft whimpers. He paused, footsteps coming into a halt as he leaned closer to the source of sound, eyebrows furrowed.

“Let… go of me!” Summer shrieked. A loud thud sounded.

Bucky had slammed open the door before the first cry even came out of her mouth, his heart accelerating. Was Hydra here? Who was it?

His eyes searched frantically all over the room, body readied in a defensive stance, expecting to see Summer being held captive or something, but nothing seemed out of place. He squinted his eyes, looking around before they landed on the small, curled up figure lying the corner of the room, shivering.

“Let… go…” She whined in her sleep. “H-help…”

Bucky neared her slowly, confused as to how she even ended up there in the corner, unsure of what to do. He was used to being comforted from a nightmare, but now with the roles reversed…

He leaned down slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible. He usually was a very good shadow, never making a sound, not even with his large body, but now, he was stumbling mess. He realized his footsteps were loud on the carpet, and he had knocked into the dresser twice now. He winced and slowly kneeled down, feeling very large and clumsy.

God damn it, she really was going to be the death of him.

“Help,” Summer sniffled as she shivered. Bucky reached for her, bringing her into his arms, rubbing her arms. For heat. Of course. She pressed up against Bucky, whining, and Bucky yelled at himself immediately for thinking of a different situation that may have include this same position.

Summer whimpered loudly, back arched into him.

A _very_ different situation.

 _Maybe Natasha was right,_ Bucky hated to admit as he flushed. What was with him blushing tonight? _Maybe it has been a long time…_

He scolded himself again before finally getting his head on straight

“Hey, hey, Summer,” He whispered against her ear. “Hey, Summer, breathe.” Bucky ordered gently. Summer’s wet eyes opened, blinking slowly, confused. “I’ve got you. Breathe with me, okay?”

There was something familiar about this. It was the way he used to calm down asthmatic Steve, back when he was 90 pounds of illnesses and sass. It was kind of similar, yet so contrastingly different.

Like the way his heart hammered, mirroring the beat against his stomach. Like the way her lashes flutter, looking like the wings of those beautiful butterflies in his stomach. Like the way Bucky really, really wanted to kiss her right then. Like the way he would willingly spend the eternity like this, right by her side, because he was selfish like that, just with her hair under his chin, her scent enveloping his skin, and their chests heaving up and down together.

Bucky yearned so much for _together_.

But he can’t. He can’t be selfish like that.

Bucky sighed, about to just carry Summer and put her back to bed when she suddenly croaked out, “Bucky?” She murmured, blinking up with hooded eyes. “Is that… that you?”

Bucky didn’t reply, afraid she’d refuse his help if he did. Perhaps she thought about the same thing, so she didn’t push it. Bucky was just grateful that she allowed him to take care of her. He gently set her down on the bed, pulling the covers until it reached her chin.

“Hey,” Summer breathed out sleepily, eyes half-shut, as Bucky was about to leave. “Kiss me?”

 _No,_ Bucky thought. _No, if you do this, it’ll get even harder for her, even harder for_ you.

But despite his own arguments, he had started leaning into Summer, her gravity, centered on her heart, on her parted lips, pulling Bucky down, down, down, into her atmosphere. He breathed in her oxygen, intoxicated by the way it smelled like that ginger and lemon and the underlying scent of caramel sweetness.

So he decided for a compromise.

He leaned down, lips parting slightly, as he pressed down on Summer’s nose, lingering there before he moved back.

There was a smile now, just as sweet as caramel, gracing her lips and Bucky’s heart stuttered at the fact that he was the one who gave her that smile. Pride. He felt proud. God, she was beautiful.

Bucky stared for a moment longer, _just one more moment, I promise,_ and burned the image into his mind for later, just in case when he boasted about the angel he had seen sleeping, and they asked for proof.

\---

“Hey, guys,” Tony said when he entered the longue, where Steve and Bucky sat watching the cooking show, Starkpad in hand. “I found something that might just interest you.” He plopped down on the other end of the L-shaped sofa, kicking up his feet.

“What is it?” Steve asked, muting the television. Bucky wasn’t paying attention to it anyway. He set his piece of paper down on the coffee table. On it were listed several points and scribbles, and at the top was written neatly _How to Apologize to Summer._ He had circled out one of them, which was _‘caramel chocolates as peace offering’_. Tony glanced at it and gave him a questioning look in which he responded with a flush. He snatched the paper back up, folding it before setting it down again.

“I’ve got something on your girl. Thought you guys would want the deets so I decided to not watch it and share it instead.” Tony said, doing something to his Starkpad.

“Good boy,” Steve murmured, Tony preening dramatically at him. “What is it?”

“A video.” Tony shrugged. “Found it via facial recognition. It’s dated… 3 years ago. Hm.”

“Location?”

“Uh… Here.” Tony blinked. “In New York. It’s a CCTV footage. Shall I play it?”

 “Yes,” Bucky nodded. Stark shrugged and clicked play.

The footage was grainy, even after Tony asked for enhanced definition. The date, _3/12/2013,_ blinking at the top corner. The setting was dark, save for a bright neon advertisement light against a rundown brick wall. _Movita,_ it read. Well. Sort of. The _a_ had fallen off, leaving _Movit._ Bucky could make out a dumpster. An alley. The road was narrow, with a sewage drain next to the building.

“Friday, where is this?” Tony asked.

“It’s a club, sir, in Queens. It’s quite popular.” Friday responded. “It is in a more… urban neighborhood.”

They continued watching. Nothing happened for the next few seconds until a door opened, and out came a drunken, staggering couple. The man was tall, built, and latched on his arm was a girl in an impossibly tight dress, wobbling on her dangerously high stilettos. The couple turned, their faces becoming more visible on the camera with the light falling on them and—e

“That’s… Summer,” Bucky breathed slowly.

Oh, _God_.

“She knows how to clean up well,” Tony hummed “Friday, run facial recognition for this man, please?”

“Right away.”

They continued watching as Summer ran her hands all over the man’s back, while his lips moved violently all over her neck and bare shoulders, leading in until they were leaning against the wall. Summer pressed her body against the man. Bucky knew then the girl had to be Summer because no one else could ever possibly make him feel… feel like _this_.

_Jealous._

When the man started to _attack_ Summer’s lips like a fucking animal, Bucky certainly did not punch the Starkpad. No, really, he didn’t. Tony wouldn’t forgive him.

Of course not; he slammed his fist right next to it.

“Whoa, Barnes,” Tony said, jerking in surprise. Steve just gave a concerned look.

“Sorry,” he grunted.

They continued making out, Summer’s hands restlessly moving all over the man’s back as he practically dry-humped into her. Suddenly, one of her hands stopped moving and she dug out something from the man’s pocket and—

“Oh. Wow.” Tony made an impressed sound. She had taken his wallet.

The clip finished there.

Silence loomed over them.

Steve was the first to speak. “Okay, so it’s a bit of a more controversial way of earning money, but, hey, the kid’s orphaned, and she—”

“Sirs, I’ve found the man.” Friday began, sounding a little reluctant. “His name is Wallace Johnson, and he was an agent. Of S.H.I.E.L.D.” Bucky’s blood turned cold. “He and his team were doing recon there; there was intel stating that there was a gang victimizing locals to pay protection fees.” Friday paused and then almost reluctantly, “Mission report stated his drink was spiked. He was murdered by the gang the next day. Recently it was found that the gang was actually a covert Hydra mission, reasons unknown. Johnson was killed the next day on the 13th.”

This time, Bucky went straight for the Starkpad.

The device was crushed into pieces, and the coffee table cracked. Neither Tony nor Steve dared to say anything.

And he didn’t even use his metal hand.

\--

Bucky wasn’t sure how to feel.

Right now, he felt as though he’d rather not.

A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. He looked up. Gentle blue eyes blinked back at him. A warm, familiar smile. Steve.

“Bucky,” He said firmly. “Don’t. Don’t overthink it. Just let things play out for now, please.”

“Funny,” Bucky replied weakly. “I thought you were the man with a plan?”

“I am,” Steve nodded. “And I do have a plan. And the plan is to allow things to play out. Besides, we don’t have enough evidence yet.”

“And when we do?” Bucky snapped. “Steve, what happens if we do?” He was shrieking by the end of the sentence. He buried his head into his best friend’s chest, tears wetting the super soldier’s stupid too-tight t-shirt. “Steve.” He wailed.

This has been known to happen one too many embarrassing times. The therapist had warned Steve that the soldier might start bawling occasionally. “All part of recovery,” She had chirped brightly. God, Bucky hated her. The thought of her made him cry even harder and Steve, bless his golden heart, just tugged Bucky closer.

He was hiccupping now. “I hate this, Steve,” He cried, pounding his fists against Steve’s muscular chest. “Why can’t I just find someone and fall in love?” He calmed down a little and sniffled. “I wish I found someone else instead.”

“Now, do you really mean that?” Steve asked.

“Mm hmm,” Bucky said firmly.

“Really?” Steve asked again.

_And forget all about Summer?_

_God. Could he even if he tried to?_

Bucky pressed his face into Steve’s shirt a little harder.

“Maybe not,” He said, hoping his answer would be too muffled for Steve to hear. But Bucky could literally hear Steve’s triumphant little smirk. “Shut up.” He murmured.

Steve chuckled before rubbing the soldier’s head. “Seriously, though, Buck. I don’t think she’s a bad person. We just wait and get enough proof to show that, okay?”

Bucky sighed heavily but before he could speak, the elevator door had dinged, and the two of them snapped their heads up. The doors slid open, revealing—

“Bruce?” Steve and Bucky asked simultaneously.

\---

“I thought you were having a one year holiday or something,” Tony asked, drinking his coffee. Natasha was in her robe, eating biscuits. She looked nervous to be around Bruce. It was weird, Bucky thought, that this gangly, awkward scientist could make a Black Widow, trained to show no emotion, get so flustered.

He paused for a second.

Well, he wasn’t really much better, so who was he to say?

“I was planning on it,” Bruce said. “And then I found Andrea. It’s not very safe out there for her. And she really wanted to meet the Avengers. So I came back. Also,” He scratched his head sheepishly, “I was running out of cash.”

Everyone turned, eerily unanimously,  to look at Andrea, the tiny 13 year old with fiery copper hair, who was kneeling on the ground, back bent over while she trailed her fingers over the kitchen tiles, mesmerized.

“Mm,” Wanda raised an eyebrow.

“Andrea, come here,” Bruce called out. The little girl blinked at the scientist and crawled up onto her feet. She mutely shuffled over, two hands latched together. “Hey, didn’t you say you were going to ask so many questions to my friends until your mouth ran dry?”

Andrea shuffled. “I’m not in the mood right now, Bruce.”

Bruce paused. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

Andrea leaned in close to Bruce’s ear and whispered something. Bruce nodded understandingly. The little girl leaned back and pressed her tiny hands against Bruce’s scruffy face. “Can I go explore?”

“Just this floor,” He compromised. Andrea nodded obediently and hurried away. Once she was out of earshot, Tony turned to look at Bruce.

“I don’t mean any offense, I mean, I love kids, but,” He paused. “What the fuck, Bruce?”

Bruce sighed, running his hands over his hair. “Andrea’s just special.”

“Oh, I don’t mean that,” He rolled his eyes. “I was probably fucking weird as a kid, but I mean, a _kid,_ Bruce? Where did you even find the time to adopt a kid when you’re travelling around the world? Plus, I don’t assume the other guy tolerates them too much.”

“Believe it or not,” Bruce mumbled as he took Tony’s coffee and sipped on it. He cringed and stretched for the pot of sugar. “She understands. She stays away from me when she notices I’m frustrated with something. She’s very smart, and she’s a riot, when she’s not… low.”

Everyone was quiet for a while before Bruce started again. “Anyways, I heard about the girl. Spring?”

“Summer,” Steve corrected. “S.H.I.E.L.D. told you?”

Bruce nodded. “I dropped by there. They get upset when I don’t announce when I’m in town. I don’t understand either. I mean, they’ve got a tracker on me.” He shrugged. “But they were saying about wanting me to study her biology. Suggested that she could be enhanced?”

Everyone paused.

Bruce finished stirring his coffee and looked up, jostling when he realized everyone was staring at him, wide-eyed.

“Um.” He drawled out awkwardly, before deciding it was for the better to change the subject. “Say. She’s German?”

\---

Bucky hated feeling scared.

Yeah. Believe it or not, Bucky didn’t actually enjoy overthinking things until they plagued his dreams and nightmares, jolting him awake at half-past what the fuck. He didn’t actually like when his heart clenched painfully while his palms sweat as he just felt so… so _scared._

The Winter Soldier wasn’t supposed to feel scared at all.

How odd. Feeling scared would mean that Hydra had won. But _feeling_ in itself would mean Hydra had failed.

But it wouldn’t really matter. Either way they would strap the Winter Soldier to a seat, punch him until he blacked out, wiped him, and then beat him up again.

Thing was, Bucky hated feeling scared because he hated letting fear control his decisions because that’s what fear does. It overrides your body and Bucky _hated_ that.

Right now, he was scared of losing his team, his family, everyone that he has grown to love. He was so scared they were going to be put in danger yet again because he had been selfish, he had seen a girl, and jumped because she seemed to make him happy.

He was scared Hydra would be behind this, and they would be coming right after him, and his friends, and fuck, call him selfish, but he really, really didn’t want to go back to the chair. And he’d rather put a bullet in his head then let them say the _words, fuck, the words._

God. Did Summer know those words?

What a joke. Like she ever needed them. Bucky would follow her anywhere if she just told him to.

Which was the problem.

Because above anything else, he was scared that Summer was going to using him like everybody else, and she was just going to end up breaking his heart.

And, thing is, he would be the fool that’d let her do it. Every single damn time.

\---

“So what?” Steve said. “There’s probably a lot of Irish in me, don’t mean that I’m in some sort of Irish mafia.”

“Steve, we need to be prepared.” Natasha warned. “Everything is lining up to show that she is a potential threat.

“Oh, aside from the fact that _she’s not?”_

“And how would you know?” Natasha argued.

“Because I actually bother taking time to talk to her?” Steve spluttered, exasperated. “You know, I’m fine if you tell us to raise our guards up or something, but just don’t come out and say she’s a threat.”

“Then you shouldn’t be coming out and saying she isn’t.”

“But—”

“Shut up,” Bucky barked out. Everyone quietened down, staring at him like misbehaved children. He stood up slowly, allowing the chair to creak backwards.

He felt cold. He didn’t like the cold. It made him numb.

But he guessed that was exactly the point.

“Steve, can’t you see?” Bucky asked. “Summer is manipulating you. She’s a honey trap—”

“James,” Natasha began but the soldier glared back at her. She shut her mouth.

“She knows you’re easy to trust, Steve, that’s why she’s going for you. All the stories she’s told you? Lies. She made them up. Do you really believe that she has no last name, no documents whatsoever? And she’s got a history of seducing people. She’s used to it. Peggy had brown hair, and brown eyes. She does too. She’s been _trained_ for this. She’s using you as a ploy, Steve.”

“But,” Steve began weakly.

“Bucky’s right.” Natasha said quietly. “Not in the fact that she’s a honey trap,” Pointed glare directed at Bucky, “But maybe you should stay away from her. See what she’ll do if that happens.”

Steve ignored her. “Bucky,” He tried again. “Please, just—”

“Just try,” Natasha interrupted. “If she continues to try to talk to you, then we’ll know it’s a game.”

“Okay,” Steve looked down.

“I’ll try to find any other stuff on her,” Tony added helpfully. “I could find other footages from the same security camera from Movita. And ones around it.”

Bucky nodded approvingly before turning. “Wanda,” He just said, the look in his eyes enough to convey the message.

“Bucky, no,” Steve plead.

The Winter Soldier didn’t bother glancing at him, just nodding at Wanda. The brunette lifted her chin, hesitating for a moment.

And she nodded back.

\---

Wanda fingers fluttered, the red sparks flickering as she twisted the knob with her will, pushing the door open. She immediately sent a hex towards the girl, rendering her fast asleep. Dreamless, of course, or it’ll mess up her thought processes.  

Wanda neared the girl, still keeping her footsteps light in case she was a light sleeper. She paused a foot in front of her. She asses the girl. She was thin, pale. Brown hair, lighter than her own, but long, sprawling out messily all around her. Wanda wasn’t sure what James saw in her. She wasn’t… ugly, really. Just average. Mediocre.

She wondered what James saw in her. It really wasn’t that she was unattractive, it was just that James had many other options, ones that were much more beautiful, but none in which he’d ever shown an ounce of interest in. So what made this one special?

Guess she was here to find out.

Wanda has been practicing her hexes a lot, oftentimes leaving her drained. Whenever she got upset, she still accidentally shot out one that left bad luck that led to incidents like the fuse burning out or Clint falling down the stairs. But she kept at it, practicing with pretty much anything. She was stronger now. Able to create and withstand a force field for a much longer time, able to tap into minds more easily, sometimes too easily. Vision practiced with her, resisting her intrusion as much as possible, but Wanda usually won, not to brag.

She supposed they both broke down each other’s walls.

Sometimes she wondered why Vision, someone who was… literally so righteous, someone on ‘the side of life’ could love someone like her, someone who couldn’t help her fingers intertwining with death. It was, after all, her fault that Ultron was created in the first place. Sokovia was her fault. The accords, the war, all her.

She supposed she wondered what he saw in her too.

Wanda forced herself to rid any thoughts, clearing her mind, shutting her eyes. She inhaled sharply as she remembered the raft, the prison. The shock collar around her neck, keeping her in place. She shook her head and she silently sat at the edge of the bed. _Enough_.

She warmed up her fingers by gently moving them. It didn’t particularly help or anything; Wanda just thought it was a cool gesture.

Concentrating on her core, she closed her eyes and reached forward to touch the girl’s head. She clenched her eyes and took a deep breath in, ready for the initial shock that came with intruding one’s consciousness.

When she entered, she began to feel nauseous and disarrayed. Weird. Usually she would feel a particular train of thought, or see images and sceneries. She felt around, a sense of discomfort settling at the bottom of her stomach. It was giving her a headache.

Like… resistance, but unlike Vision’s, who felt more concrete, like a physical wall.

Colors. There was a chaotic blur of colors. Blue and red and green and yellow. They never settle down, like the mind couldn’t decide on one. They weren’t a scenery. Just… flashing colors that blended into each other.

It was a mess, a jumble of disorganized thoughts. Disorderly. _Wrong._ Wanda never usually limited the mind to a particular framework, but this was just illogical, chaotic. It wasn’t working in the way that a normal mind was supposed to. She strained her own mind and tried harder, to get in deeper.

But the deeper Wanda got, the messier the mind became. The colors turned black, swirls of black poison. Fear, Wanda could feel, but it wasn’t just fear. It was something else Wanda had never felt before. The black suddenly felt like they were closing in on her. She swallowed and went deeper.

It was when the haunting voices started to echo that she gasped, surprised, and lurched backwards, toppling off the bed. The girl stirred. Wanda shot out another hex that fell upon the girl, lulling her back to sleep.

She trembled as she stood. Those voices. Wanda couldn’t help but recognizing them.

_Remembering them._

She swallowed the bitter tang in her throat as she moved away from the girl. Her legs were shaking, threatening to collapse when she closed the door behind her, exiting the room.

She felt as though her mind had just been violated, even though it had been the other way around.

\---

“I don’t know,” Wanda said as Vision held her up. She was a shaking mess, eyes unfocused as she struggled to stay standing. This wasn’t like her at all. “It was like… a disease. It was going to… it was reaching out to me. Like it wanted to consume me.” She swallowed as Vision rubbed his hand over her back. “It was almost like…”

“What is it?” Steve asked calmly.

“I think SHIELD could be correct.” She whispered. “I think she’s enhanced, like me.”

\---

Bucky entered the kitchen intending to get coffee.

What he didn’t expect to see was a mop of messy brown hair there, tossed in a horrendously messy bun, and a figure wrapped up cozily in a loose sweater and tights.

How dare she look so comfortable?

“Excuse me,” He said, making his voice steely. The figure stiffened and Bucky neared her silently. Peering over her shoulder, his heart thudded painfully. Caramel chocolates. Bucky had asked Friday to order them for him. He’d forgotten…

A sudden anger flared in him. How dare she? How dare she lie and trick and _maneuver_ herself into Bucky’s heart and claim it hers to toy with? How dare she make it so _easy?_  Bucky suddenly realized that _yes,_ she must be Hydra—she has to be—because only Hydra would have the ability to play Bucky like this, mess with his mind like this.

He needed to end it, his brain realized.

His heart was a little more stubborn.

But the Winter Soldier was created not to listen to his heart. In fact, he did not have one at all. Just as his arm was replaced with cold metal, so was his heart. It was more efficient this way. Less feelings, more blood.

“Since when were you allowed to eat those?” He asked.

“I can do what I fucking want to, thanks,” She rolled her eyes _._

“Funny,” Bucky growled. “Technically, we have full control over what you do, because you’re considered by SHIELD as a prisoner.”

Summer’s shoulders tensed. And then she turned around, chocolate eyes shining with hurt and confusion.

Bucky swallowed.

_Don’t. Fall. Into. Them._

“Look, Bucky, I don’t know what is wrong, but can you just talk to me?” Her voice was soft, pleading and everything Bucky hated and loved.

He darted his eyes away. “I won’t let you do this, Summer,” A wry smile, “If that’s even your name.”

Summer gaped at him, scoffing in disbelief. “I wouldn’t know now, would I? My parents weren’t exactly around to tell me.”

“Still that story, huh?”

Summer pursed her lips. “Still a fucking pompous ass, I see. Should’ve known first impressions were true.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes and before he could help it, he had reached his hands out, and had wrapped Summer’s bony wrists in his fingers. He leaned in closer. “I guess they are.”

“Let go,” Summer said in a strained voice. Her breathing hitched. _Good. Feel scared._

_Weapons inflict fear. Weapons inflict fear. Weapons inflict fear._

He was a weapon. He was cold, and he was uncaring. Summer was nothing but a target to eliminate, because she was _dangerous_ , because she made the weapon _feel_.

“Let go you dick!” When Summer’s elbow connected with his arm, he paused and let go. Summer was crying now, tugging her sleeves to cover the fingerprints.

 _Good,_ Bucky thought, swallowing the pain, _now you know what monster I am. Now you know I can destroy you before you even try to destroy me._

But the empty feeling in his chest, the way there was nothing left but broken and crumbled ruins made it feel like that was a lie. _Too late._

“You’re not supposed to be like this,” Summer whispered in a rejected voice. “Y-you’re supposed to make it, make it go away, not give it. It’s not fair. You should be like you _were_. Like last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky said coldly. Summer let out a quiet sob.

“I-I’m just hungry,” She cried. “I’m just so hungry, please.”

“Well,” Bucky looked at the chocolates. “You don’t deserve those.” His emotions only echoed in his empty heart, a remnant of their presence, and he stared down at her. “Plus, you’re used to it, aren’t you? Or was that also a lie? Living in a hut, eating out of cans only?”

Summer’s shoulders were lower than before. She swiveled, silently covering the lid over the box, body racking up soundless sobs. She turned back around, placing the box in Bucky’s awaiting hands. “Take it,” She croaked. She pushed past him. “Just know… whoever you think I am, I’m not.”

But Bucky still looked at her and saw the frail girl that needed protection. Bucky still looked, and saw the girl who was broken in ways he couldn’t understand. Bucky still looked and he still hurt.

_So, trust me, I know._

“Then prove it,” He just said as he watched her leave. He never knew the sounds of footsteps could make him feel so much yet nothing at all.

\---

“I found more juice on her,” Tony hollered when he entered the dining hall. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping for more than a day now. Knowing Tony, it was probably true.

Steve watched as Bucky nodded stiffly. Tony hesitated before bringing out his tablet.

“Wait,” Steve interrupted. “Let’s… let’s have Summer around to watch it. See her response. And if there’s a misunderstanding she can tell us. Explain.”

Steve gave Bucky a look, a desperate, pleading one, hoping Bucky would just allow it.

Steve really believed that sometimes he knew his idiot of a best friend more than the doofus knew himself. As steely and unbreakable Bucky put himself out there as, he was breaking inside, and Steve could see it. He could see it and he would smack him if he knew that Bucky would actually gain anything out of it. Idiot would probably just scowl and tell Steve he was wrong and return to his weepy moping, which, naturally, was in the form of intimidating silent death glares.

But Steve honestly could see how much Bucky was hurting. He was purposefully distancing himself, purposefully hating Summer, thinking he had to in order to protect his team. His _family._

But just as love cannot be forced, neither can hate.

So Steve tried to convey his plea to Bucky, hoping they’d go through those tall, icy fortresses he hid himself in. Steve knew grew very cold in there. Lonely. It was hard to stay warm when one did not have any warm memories.

“Fine,” Bucky shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.” Steve nearly laughed at the lie. “Bring her.”

 _Thanks_ , he smiled. “Friday, would you kindly request Summer’s attendance?” Steve said gratefully.

“Of course, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve watched as Bucky played nonchalant as Summer entered the room. God, she looked terrible. Steve immediately wanted to hold her and apologize. She was looking smaller than ever, the hunch in her spine looking almost as bad as the kyphosis Steve once had. She was drowning in the oversized sweater, the jeans hanging loosely on her hips. Withering. She was withering.

And, Jesus, her eyes.

Steve was certain if he strained hard enough he could see the monsters and demons that tormented her at night.

Yet still, as she stared at Bucky like he hung the moon, his face remained stoic.

Steve hated that he could do that. It wasn’t fair. Not to Summer, who’s face just faltered disappointedly, who’s shoulders just slumped even more impossibly lower.

She silently walked, head tilted down so her hair covered her face almost shamefully, and sat in the only spot let open between Nat and Tony. She shuffled in her seat, tugging on her sleeves absentmindedly.

“Ooh-kay,” Tony began, turning to face Summer with an expectant look. The poor girl flinched. “Let’s get right to it, shall we?”

All eyes on her, Summer fidgeted, and with Steve’s enhanced hearing, he could hear her begin to breathe sharper. Steve looked over at the still uncaring Bucky. He must be able to hear it too, maybe even hear her elevating heartbeat if he tried hard enough.

“I,” She said, sounding like she was being choked. “I don’t know.” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, pulling her arms in closer around her. “I don’t know, I mean,” She began to blubber, forming incoherent sentences, her words not making sense at all. Steve was growing worried. Was she having a panic attack?

Her face was panic-stricken as she reached up for her eyes.  She was crying. She mumbled something as she furiously rubbed at her tears, wiping them away angrily. “I’m sorry,” She repeated as she kept rubbing away. Her breathing became labored and Steve rushed to her side, kneeling down next to her chair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to _cry.”_

“Summer,” He called out. “Hey, Summer, breathe.”

She choked and opened her mouth, sucking in desperately, as if not realizing how much she needed the oxygen until Steve told her. “Hey, don’t be scared, okay? We just want to talk. Nothing scary,” Steve soothed. Summer listened for a bit before she suddenly glared at him, pushing him away, taking a defensive stance, as if Steve would hurt him.

Steve was about to back away and promise Summer he wouldn’t when Bucky finally opened his mouth.

And Steve wished he hadn’t.

“She’s fooling you again, guys.” He called out. Steve glared at him and turned back to Summer, only to find her staring at Bucky in that same awe again, seemingly ignoring or not registering his previous words, only focusing on the fact that he had spoken them.

“Bucky,” She murmured, reaching her hands out to him before retracting them as if he was the sun, and if too close, she’d get burned.  “Bucky.” She repeated, a little more sadly.

Bucky glared back at her, eyes hard. Steve backed away as Summer looked at him, confused.

“Bucky, I know,” She started, eyebrows knitted, eyes wide and hopeful. “I know the voices,” She whispered the words, eyes darting around suspiciously. “I know they say bad things about me.” She shook her head in a desperate manner. “They’re just mean, they like to lie. I don’t know why they say bad stuff—” She gasped, interrupting herself as she clapped her hands over her ears quickly.

“They’re doing it again!” She shouted, wincing. “Close your ears, close your ears.” She hurried out. When Bucky just stared at her, eyes confused and, _finally,_ worried, she just frowned in confusion before smiling warmly, as if she was the one who needed to comfort Bucky. She crawled over the mahogany table until she reached Bucky’s seat. She carefully removed the hands over her ears and flinched, her breathing rate increasing once again as she leaned over and cupped Bucky’s ears.

She beamed brightly. “There. Can’t hear them now, right?”

She jerked once again and choked in pain but kept her hands on Bucky’s. Steve leaned over to Wanda, “What’s in her mind?”

Apparently, she had already tried. “I don’t know, it’s a mess, I can’t see anything.” She hissed back. “It... _hurts._ ”

“You’re okay now,” Summer whispered and leaned forward, kissing Bucky’s forehead, nuzzling against it. “I’ve got you.”

“Should I knock her out?” Wanda murmured.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t Steve who replied. Not Bucky either.

No.

Steve turned and saw the copper-haired 13 year old standing by the doorway. She stepped into the kitchen and looked at Wanda. “Well?” She sighed. “Just do it. Or she’ll end up hurting herself.”

Wanda nodded hesitantly, turned around, and with a simple wave of her fingers, Summer fell into Bucky’s arm, fast asleep. Steve pretended he didn’t see the way Bucky gingerly pressed his nose into her hair and the single tear that stained his cheeks when he mouthed _sorry_.

\--

“What did you see when you entered her mind?” Andrea asked. As she pressed a hand on Summer’s forehead.

“It was… disruptive. Nonsensical.” Wanda explained. “Like, it just didn’t make sense.”

“I get it,” Andrea hummed as she wrote down on her piece of paper. _Thought disorders_.

“Also, it was like… dark, and it was as if enveloping me into this abyss. There were blurry colors, not an image… I don’t really understand.” Wanda swallowed. “I think she’s enhanced. Maybe resistive. Telepathic.”

Andrea blinked at her disbelievingly. “Oh, sweetheart.” She began, making an amused sound at the back of her throat. She shook her head. “That’s just how severe depression looks like.”

Wanda paused, surprised. Andrea scoffed and murmured. “Enhanced, my ass.”

Tony looked over at Bruce, eyebrows raised. “She’s… smart,” The scientist defended. “Also, maybe clairvoyant.” He added.

“What is the AI’s name?” Andrea asked aloud, to no one in particular.

“My name is Friday, Ms. Clarke.” The AI replied. Andrea nodded.

“Her behavioral analysis please, Friday?” She requested politely. “Do you have it?”

“Just a moment,” Friday said. “Yes.”

“Okay. Thanks. And does it show symptoms of psychosis?”

A pause. “Indeed, miss. I suspect auditory hallucinations, increased paranoia, slight delusions and possible delirium and, well—”

Andrea held up her hand, stopping Friday and softly, “I understand. I saw. You don’t have to tell it.” She coughed before turning back to her piece of paper, writing down something else. “Mood levels?”

“A significant decrease over past 12 hours.”

“And you guys,” She looked up, not faltering for one second as she eyed Bucky, not even flinching at those cold hard eyes. “Her speech. Disorganized, yes?”

Bucky nodded wordlessly, darting his eyes to Summer, just like he had been habitually for the past 10 minutes.

“A word salad, we call it,” Andrea stated and scribbled on her paper. “Has she been withdrawing from you guys? Talking less, that sort of thing?”

“I suppose so, but I wouldn’t say it’s entirely on her part.” Steve murmured, glancing at Bucky.

“Friday, has she been showing catatonic behaviors?”

“No, not yet.”

“Okay. Good,” Andrea folded the paper. “Okay, so, could you guys possibly get some antipsychotics?” Andrea requested.

“I’ve sent the order. Anything else?” Friday responded.

“Well, I don’t want her going to therapy until it’s willing. I never understood forceful therapy.” She crinkled her nose. “I assume you guys have some tranquilizers lying around but I suppose we don’t need them as long as Scarlet Witch can put her to sleep easily enough. Which you might have to do. She might hurt others… or herself, if submerged too long in those symptoms.” Andrea paused. “Hallucinations are very draining.” She murmured under her breath.

“But, why?” Bucky finally spoke, his voice small.

Andrea thought over the question. She was very smart and attentive for her age.

“Well, depression is known to trigger psychosis, so I think it’s that. I don’t think she’s schizophrenic, no. Is she, Friday?”

“I would say no as well, miss.”

“Right. She’s just paranoid. Scared. Of everything. Pan anxiety. It was triggered very quickly, what I would assume as a cycloid psychosis. The depressions usually involves self-blaming hallucinations, which leads to a further decrease in mood-levels. PTSD sometimes come to play. An extremely stressful event might also cause it.” She shrugged. “It could be anything, or, well, a multitude of everything.”

“Will,” Bucky began. “Will she be okay?”

Andrea opened her mouth, preparing to answer when she paused. Her voice softened. “Yes. Yes she will.”

Bucky nodded. That was all he needed. He gave Summer one passing glance, and left the room silently. He had done enough harm for the day.

\--

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Hope you guys enjoyed it! Tell me what you think of it! I'm fishing for compliments muahahaha
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads these stories of mine, it honestly means so fucking much to me. You guys are great. Thanks for the reading, for kudo-ing and for commenting; you guys make me smile and you guys allow me to share my passion and joy and that's real cool of you guys to do. 
> 
> If the storyline is confusing, don't feel scared to leave a comment telling me so. I'll try to write with more clarity. Also, if you notice any major plotholes or bad grammar or very obvious typos or something, you can still tell me, I won't be offended. Just no hate :) Thanks. 
> 
> Want to wish everyone a merry Christmas in advance. Next chapter might be up in about a week. I have it done already, but I still need to edit and start chapter 10. Thanks for reading again. Love you all so much. :* :*


	9. Chapter Nine: Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has just become a revolving circle of hurt and comfort and hurt and comfort but on the bright side, there's both hurt and comfort in this chapter, not just hurt.
> 
> Reminder: this is unbeta'ed

Oddly, the first sense that came back to Summer wasn’t hearing or touch, but smell. Specifically, the smell of soft lemon and lavender.  

She managed to peel her eyes open after a few seconds, squinting a little at the light, even though it was quite dim. She groggily sat up, groaning at the pounding headache that had taken residence in her head. For a moment, she wondered how much she drank last night.

It took her a faltering second to realize her mistake.

“Hey,” A voice called out from beside her. She turned, surprised to see a young girl, looking around 15, with coppery red hair, sitting next to the bed, both legs propped up so her chin was tucked comfortably between her knees. Well, she looked comfortable. She tilted her head. “How are you feeling?”

“Um,” Summer wasn’t really sure either. “Dizzy.”

“One of the side effects,” The girl noted, nodding, “It’ll wear off in a bit, hopefully.” She set her legs back down and stretched, yawning. “I’m Andrea, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi Andrea,” Summer greeted. “I assume you know my name.”

“Autumn, right?” Andrea asked seriously before chuckling. “I’m kidding. I’ve heard lots about you, Summer.”

“Nothing good, I suppose,” Summer deadpanned wryly.

“Nothing too bad either,” Andrea assured. “Oh, and just in case you’re wondering, I’m your self-appointed neurologist.”

Summer quirked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little too young to be a neurologist?”

“Thus the term self-appointed,” Andrea reminded. “Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of experience.”

Summer decided not to question it. “What am I on?” Summer asked instead as she lied back down, wincing as she realized that the headache was not going away.

“Just some anti-psychotics, mood-stabilizers and like, water.” Andrea said. “Not to worry about; they’re low dosages. Just enough to let you think a little clearer. A little,” Her eyes softened, “Quieter.” Summer looked away.

Andrea didn’t push. She just poured a glass of water and handed it to the brunette. “And if you’re worried…” She murmured. “It was just me who did the bandages; that’s why they’re, well,” She gestured to the white fabric. “Not that great.” 

Summer looked at her and nodded, looking down at her wrist. “Thanks.” She said softly. “For both patching it up and also… not telling.”

“You’re welcome,” Andrea replied. “For the second part. The first was human courtesy, you don’t need to thank me.”

Summer drank her water silently.

“Do you remember?” Andrea asked hesitantly.

Summer’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, setting the empty glass down. “Funnily enough, yes. I remember everything.”

Andrea nodded. “I’m sorry.” She commented.

“It’s fine,” Summer assured, flashing a quick smile. “It’s just… well, it’s embarrassing.”

“I think it’s brave.” Andrea contradicted. “I think you’re brave, and strong.”

“Well, you’d be the first, kid,” Summer sighed, rubbing her eyes. “What’s wrong with me? Am I going crazy, like actually cuckoo in the head? Manic depression?”

“They call it bipolar now, you know? And no. You were just depressed,” Andrea stated. Summer snickered, amused. “Quite severely, actually.”

“Listen, I’ve been depressed for years now, never needed pills, but I’ve never had imaginary people fucking talk to me.”

“Well, not all depression end up triggering psychosis. I think the cause is a mixture of your depression and stress levels.” Andrea said before standing up. “You know, taking pills aren’t bad. They help, a lot.”

“It’s not that. I mean, I’d love to have ‘em, but I can’t afford them,” Summer said sardonically. “They’re fucking expensive, and clinics have the tightest securities, these days.”

“Well, I’m sure the Avengers, as the heroes and millionaires they are, wouldn’t mind spending a couple digits for you.” Andrea tilted her head.

“I don’t like owing people, and I’ve already been accumulating quite the debt by just staying here in this place.” Summer murmured dryly. “God. Imagine rent?”

“Well, then, just to clarify, you don’t owe me anything. In fact, I’m kind of using you as a test subject seeing no one is usually willing to allow a 14 year old self-imposed neurologist in their clinic,” The redhead admitted and smiled.

And surprisingly, Summer smiled back.

It was actually kind of nice, not to be handed carefully with gloves.

“Anyway.” Andrea announced. “Rest up while you can. The pills are kind of drying, so there’s water by your bed. In the unlikely event that you think you’re having a stroke, don’t panic, Friday’s monitoring you. If you indeed are having a stroke, immediate help will be coming.”

“I assume the immediate help consists a one-girl team?” Summer raised an eyebrow.

“Afraid so, miss. We’re short-staffed at the moment.”

“That’s okay. I like the team. They get rid of the imaginary people quite efficiently.” Summer said, eyes already slipping shut. “Thanks kid.”

“Don’t call me that, I’m not a goat,” Andrea murmured.

Just as she was about to leave, the redhead turned to face Summer, an incomprehensible look in her eyes . “Hey. Just for the record, and you should trust me on this.” She hesitated. “Sometimes… they’re not imaginary.”

\---

Summer slept dreamlessly for the next 14 hours, according to Andrea, who was faithfully there when she woke up, curled up beneath the blanket on the couch, shooting zombies on her new StarkPad. The ringing bullets was the first thing she heard and she’d internally freaked out but she didn’t want to come off as a hassle, or as so vulnerable and sensitive, so she didn’t mention it. It was only when she made the slightest cringe at a particularly loud explosion that Andrea noticed and muted her game immediately.

“You know, if you don’t speak up, I’m never going to know, and then when I find out, I’ll just end up feeling read bad.” Andrea stated. “Like I am right now.”

“Then I’ll just make sure you never find out.” Summer replied smoothly. Under Andrea’s scrutinizing glare, she sighed. “I just didn’t want to make a big-ass deal, okay? You’re enjoying your game, I’m not going to take that away from you.”

Andrea gave her a look. “I’m _enjoying_ a game; you’re _suffering_ because of it, Summer.”

“And?” Summer quirked an eyebrow. At the unimpressed face, she sighed. “That’s just the way it is; has been and will be, and I’m perfectly okay with that,” Summer murmured lowly. “Just because I’m suffering doesn’t mean someone else has to at my expense.”

Andrea paused.

“Summer,” She said softly, sympathetically. Summer winced. “That’s not the way to think.”

Summer didn’t respond, maybe she didn’t know how to, so she just picked beneath her fingernails.

“Would you like to attend therapy, Summer?” Andrea finally asked after a moment of silence. Summer looked up.  “I won’t make you, but it’s going to be good for you.”

Summer crinkled her nose. “Just… on a personal level, I don’t think someone telling you how to think or act or feel because they’re getting paid to do so is that great.” Summer said. 

“They don’t dictate you, they just advise you. Trust me, I don’t particularly like them that much either, but I know they’re good. They ground me, kind of.”

Summer decided it was better to spare the child the horror of knowing that Summer grounded herself with pain.

“They help you love and accept yourself, and start seeing yourself like a decent person. Just give it a go?” Andrea asked. “It’s fine if you don’t, but seriously consider it?”

Summer nodded tiredly, half just to appease Andrea. “You know, if you’re seriously making me go to therapy, I’d gladly impose you as my therapist.”

Andrea perked up. “Really?” She asked before her shoulders slumped back down. “I mean, I guess you should attend therapy with a professional who’s actually trained and qualified…”

“I think you give plenty of good advice, kid.” Summer smiled, settling back down onto her pillow, tired once again.

Andrea scratched the back of her neck. “Well… I _have_ been studying psychology and advanced psychiatric nursing for a bit now… I even passed the online psychology degree test I found. It’s not official, but…”

“Andrea, I’d love to talk, ahem, being forced to talk to you about mushy shit that has been ‘on my mind’,” She air-quoted. “Please be my therapist.”

“If you insist,” Andrea drawled out but the grin on her face was pathetically disguised.

“I do, Ms, um,” Summer trailed off.

“James. Andrea Nicole James.” She beamed.

“Ms James, expert in online psychology,” Summer ended. Andrea giggled, a sound appropriate for her young age, which was usually forgotten, shadowed by her cool, collected front and behaviour. It was refreshing to see her act a little her age.

Summer sighed softly in content; seeing the kid smile had made her smile as well. It was nice to remember that she could still help create happiness, something so pure and sweet, when she was anything but.

Maybe Summer did have a shot at a better life after all.

\---

Summer was woken up in the middle of the night by a loud, shrill scream.

It took a moment, and Andrea bursting through the door, wide-eyed, to realize it had been her own voice that had pierced through the air.

“I’m okay,” Summer announced upon Andrea’s worried and fearful look, tugging her hand through her hair. “I’m okay. I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”

It took some coaxing, but Andrea finally relented and returned back to her room. Summer sighed as the door clicked shut. She finally kicked off the blanket and assessed her damage.

She hissed at the thick blood staining the loosened bandages that was falling apart around her left forearm. She had clawed her wounds open.

She shakily got onto her feet, feeling dizzy at the bloody sight and moved to the bathroom, her left arm hung limply by her side. She turned on the tap by the arm and ran her injured arm underneath the tap water. She watched the blood go down the drain, barely feeling the sting of the cold water.

She dried it with the cloth by the sink before sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, cleaning her wounds with a  cotton pad and a bottle of disinfectant. She wrapped the gauze around her arm neatly, having numerous chances to practice the skill as a teenager. Needless to say, she was an idiot.

 _Still am_ , her consciousness helpfully added.

She redid the bandages on her other arm, deciding it was good that Andrea didn’t know how to since that meant she wasn’t doing something worrying bad like Summer was and have done so for most of her life. She checked herself in the mirror, wincing when she remembered how loud she had screamed. She couldn’t even remember half of her nightmare, though, more likely than not, it was probably _that_ dream again.

And yet she nearly screamed again when she returned to the room only to see a dark figure sitting on the edge of her bed.

“What the fuck,” She hissed, hands clutching onto her heavily beating chest.

Her heart was still pounding as Bucky lifted up his head, bright blue eyes vulnerably peering up at Summer through wet lashes. He clambered onto his feet, swallowing loudly.

“Summer,” He just breathed, his voice dry and broken and so openly, shamelessly _sad_. “Summer.”

He moved slowly, softly and hesitant, a question in itself, until he was 3 feet away from Summer. His eyes shone like sunlight dappled by rainy eyes Summer tried not to focus on the way he smelled, or the way he walked, or the way those eyes, God, those eyes _looked_ but Bucky made it darn so difficult.

It was unfair.

“Bucky,” Summer just said instead.

Bucky let out a shaky breath and squinted his eyes shut. A teardrop fell from his eye. 

“Please don’t hate me,” Bucky whispered dejectedly. “God, please, Summer, please don’t _hate_ me,” Bucky outright sobbed as he wrapped his arms around himself. “Please don’t hate me… Don’t tell me you hate me… Just don’t say it, don’t hate me… _please._ ”

He breathed raggedly, chest heaving rapidly, desperately as he chanted the four words over and over again, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Summer couldn’t help it. Bucky always just seemed so strong, yet now, he was like this, crying, vulnerable, like any other human being.

Like he cared.

Summer gingerly stretched out a hand and then clasped it around Bucky’s back. He shuddered, quietening down, breaths coming out in sudden puffs as he tried to calm down. Summer took a step and wrapped the other arm around him, and gently pushed his head towards her shoulder.

“I don’t hate you,” Summer murmured. “God, Bucky, I don’t think I can.”

Bucky quietened down slowly.

“Do you want to?”          

Summer didn’t know what to say. “I don’t think I have say.” She said truthfully. “It’s just not possible.”

“Okay,” Bucky accepted in a soft voice. “Okay.”

“Do _you_?” Summer asked in turn.

“I did.” Bucky said. “Maybe I still do. I don’t know. All I know is I can’t. Never.”

“Then why did you?”

“I didn’t.”

Summer didn’t know what to say. “You made it look like you did.”

“I tried very hard,” Bucky said softly. “I tried to hate you. But I can’t stand even the idea of you hating me. I guess I’m a hypocrite. What’s new?”

Summer let go slowly, hands returning to her sides. Bucky looked down and he froze.

“Summer?” He whispered quietly as his fingers, trembling, stretched out to wrap around her wrist. Summer looked down. Oh. The bandages. “Oh, God,” he breathed, reaching out for her other arm. “Summer, why?”

Summer didn’t reply, just watched as Bucky lifted her hand, eyebrows knitted in disbelief. Maybe horror. _Now you’ve seen me. The real monster I am. Tell me, do you hate me now?_ It was good if he did, she supposed, right if he did. He deserved more than someone like her.

“Fuck!” Bucky swore loudly, shutting his eyes hardly, yet his hands remained soft. “Oh, God, how can you not hate me? I fucking hate me!”

Bucky released Summer’s hand, which swung into a stop by her side. Bucky angrily ran his fingers through his already messy hair, breathing rapid and jerky. He dragged his fingers and nails down his face, leaving angry trails.

“Bucky, stop,” Summer reached out grabbing his hands. She felt terrified as Bucky clawed angrily, hissing, against his skin. Not of him, God, no, of course not, _for_ him. She tugged again and he fell like a doll, his head against her shoulder, sobbing.

“Summer, you don’t deserve this at all,” He just whispered. Hands clutching onto her like she was his lifeline.

And thing was, she’d give up everything to be, too.

 _Imagine that_ , Summer thought, smiling at the irony. _Being the reason someone lives._

Hypocrites, Summer decided. They were both such hypocrites.

“Neither do you,” Summer replied as she wrapped her own arms around his body, running his hands up and down his back.

For the first time of her life, she was rushing through he motions.

For the first time of her life, she wasn’t doing it out of ulterior motives.

No. Just him. All for him.

And maybe, that meant for her too.

“Buck.” She whispered, leaning back and pressing her head to Bucky’s, staring into those blue and grey infinities. She never knew there was so much of the colour in the universe, but apparently there was, all stored in those eyes of his.

“Summer.” He breathed, the name sweet like the season on his tongue.

She felt beautiful when he said her name.

God, she was selfish.

Summer tucked her head back into the crook of his neck, where she could forget everything else but him, and he way he felt, and the way he smelled, and the way he _is_.

They just held each other like that for God knows how long, Bucky’s drying tears staining Summer’s shirt, Summer’s breaths warming Bucky’s neck, their scents mingling, their body pressed close enough that they were one. Guess two broken pieces do end up making a whole one.

Summer smiled, amused, happy, content and bitter. God, they were such a fucking mess. 

\---

Somehow, somewhere along their hug, they have landed on the bed, both on their sides, eyes gazing into each other’s, saying a million things at once, while nothing at all at the same time. The ghost of a smile flittered across Bucky’s lips and Summer smiled back.

Bucky moved closer, and so did Summer, until they were breathing each other’s oxygen, getting a little bit breathless, but the nice kind of breathless, the kind the other person became your air. Their breaths mingled, their noses brushing, their heartbeats messy but making a dissonantly beautiful harmony.

Their eyes were looking everywhere, drinking in the person before them, until they became fixated on red parted lips. Summer licked her own. Bucky responded with a ragged breath.

Summer couldn’t take it anymore. She leaned in closer, their noses touching now. She turned her head, arms moving in, snaking around Bucky’s heat, wrapping him up so he was her own. Their lips were millimetres away now, and there was an unshakable want, an undeniable desire, as obvious as daylight and as real as anything Summer’s ever known. Summer wanted this.

And for once, Summer thought, Summer believed, Summer _knew_ that Bucky did too.

His eyes were shining bright, stormy and fierce but tender too, and it was so beautiful. Summer brushed up upon him, her body feeling like it was on fire, like she needed to kiss him, so badly, put those parted lips on hers, taste him, feel just how real he was.

“Bucky,” Summer whined, not at all embarrassed at the amount of want and desperation in her voice. Her hands, splayed across his back, tracing the muscles there, needed more. Her eyes drinking in the sight of his beautiful face, needed more. Her body, from her skin, to her heart needed _more_ , and not just more of anything, but more of _him_.

“Summer,” He breathed, and she shivered at the feeling of his lips grazing past hers. The tingles spread through her body, a soft pleasant warmth filling her. She sighed softly and moved it.

But then, a strangled sound, almost like a whimper, almost like a beg. Summer stopped herself. Bucky’s eyes shone with just as much want as before, but not accompanied by pain.

“Summer,” He murmured. “Summer, I-I can’t. Not to you, not to myself.”

The _almost_ burned like an inferno on her lips; the feeling seemed so fiery, but so different from the flames that had erupted in her stomach, spreading to her heart, just seconds before now.

Then she smiled. Maybe some of it in bitterness, some of it even anger, but most of it resignation, a melancholy submission. Her eyelashes fluttered down, a little in the way that broken dreams do, brushing against the bottom of her eyes, the graze reminding her of his lips, _almost_ touching hers.

She sighed gently, softly, the sound just a soft wisp of breathlessness. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe if she had never been given a taste of heaven, hell and all its bitterness wouldn’t be so unbearable.

So Summer settled for the soft cotton embrace and the tender, apologetic, _wishful_ rub against her back. But with Bucky, nothing ever felt like just settling anyway.

\---

Summer woke up in the morning in an empty room. Bucky’s spot was still warm, and if she tried, if she closed her eyes, she could still feel him there, could still reach out and trace her fingers over his silhouette.   

She sighed softly, the sound sounding both longing and contented, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. The feeling of his hot skin on hers still imprinted in her mind, she stretched out her arms and extended her waist, rolling her shoulders. She yawned and slid into the fluffy slippers by her bedside, no doubt placed there by Andrea, and went out her room.

\--

A magenta man was cooking on the stove in the kitchen.

Well. Summer supposed people come in all shapes and colours.

She took a seat by the counter, coughing quietly to alert her presence, and the man turned around, not in an alarmed manner, his motions calm and collected. He was dressed in domestic clothing, a simple button up and dark pants and moccasins.

“Hello,” The man announced in a gentle British accent. He had a gem, yellow and shiny, planted atop his forehead. Ooh. “Nice to meet you. My name is Vision. Sometimes people call me Vis. As a nickname. I’m actually a humanoid android, created by Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. But, ah, just treat me as you would a human.”

“Uh, hey,” Summer lifted her chin in acknowledgement. “I’m…  Summer. People call me… Summer. I’m a human. It’d be fabulous, too, if someone just treated me as one.” She said before wincing. “Sorry. That was my built-in sass speaking. I don’t really mean that.”

Vision didn’t seem to buy it. “Do you believe that?” Vision tilted his head. “That others do not treat you as if you are a human being?”

 “I mean,” Summer mumbled, lips pursed in a small wry frown. “I get _why._ ”

Before Vision could reply, a footstep sounded. Summer turned. There was a girl with dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail, a few loose tendrils framing her face. She was dressed in a red leather jacket and black jeans. Her stance was defensive, screaming confidence. Very badass. Very sexy.

“Hi,” Summer greeted, deciding it would be safer to play nice with her.

“Hello,” The girl in red replied, eyes hesitant, bordering on suspicion. Her voice held a charming and strange accent, one Summer couldn’t place, which wasn’t all too surprising. “I’m Wanda.”

“Summer,” She returned.

Awkward silence ensued.

Vision coughed, “Did you sleep well, Wanda?” Vision asked politely as he continued cooking.

“I did.” Wanda said, still lingering by the doorway. Another pause. “Your cooking smells good.”

“Would you please come taste test for me?” Vision asked. Wanda nodded and hesitantly set foot into the kitchen, moving to the stove. Summer watched as Vision lovingly blew on the ladle of the soup as Wanda stepped next to him, opening up her lips. “It’s still hot,” he warned softly, pushing behind a loose strand of brown hair behind Wanda’s hair as he fed her the soup.

“Mm,” Wanda made an appreciative sound and licked her lips. “Some salt, maybe? Just a pinch.”

“A pinch,” Vision repeated, leaning over to the salt. “I’ve got big hands, thus resulting in big pinches.”

Wanda laughed, a beautiful sounding thing, and Summer smiled gently.

Vision showed Wanda his version of a pinch, getting a nod of approval before adding it into the pot. He stirred it gently and turned to Wanda, quietly placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Wanda smiled, her lips curling up into a show of contentedness.

How nice. Even a humanoid android had a better love life than she did. Made sense. After all, they treated him as a human, when she couldn’t even be seen by the government as one.

\---

Summer dangled her legs off the balcony, the view below her magnificent, the cars looking so tiny, like they had when she had been on the helicopter. For a moment, she wished she could be brave enough to jump, because truth be told, she was still too scared to die. But then again, she was scared to live too.

How pathetic, but what else is new?

“Ms Summer?” Friday’s voice was even loud out on the balcony, with the whistling wind. “Your presence is requested in the laboratory.”

Summer blinked before she picked herself up, sighing softly, dusting down her pants. “Am I allowed to take some of the pills? Or would it be considered suicide attempt overdosing?” She asked wrly.

“Ms James did permit you to do so.” Friday stated. “One pill of each.”

Summer shuffled along to the bathroom where she brought out the two bottle of pills for her psychosis and depression. She poured herself a glass of water and swallowed the pills. She eyed the figure in the mirror, at the dark circles underneath her eyes and her stringy hair, knotted and all over the place. She turned. Her cheeks were slightly sunken, and sometimes she thought her ears looked funny, a little too big. She looked terrible.

What did he see in her anyway?

Nothing, maybe, Summer thought as she avoided looking into the mirror again as she drank her water. After all, it wasn’t like he actually said he was into her. What ridiculousness, now that Summer thought about it. Never would someone so magnificent like him settle for someone so less-than-mediocre like Summer? Summer wouldn’t allow it, not if she could help it. He deserved so much more.

A deep, heavy feeling in her chest, Summer noted that she should cut her hair sometime soon when changed into a long-sleeved shirt. She tugged her long hair through a hair tie, throwing it up before leaving the room nervously, following Friday’s directions to the lab.

Everyone was there. Steve smiled softly at Summer, standing comfortably by the edge of a table, while Natasha sat on a stool, eyes darting towards her in acknowledgement as she entered the room. Tony Stark was tinkering with a mechanism, while Wanda and Vision were silently murmuring to each other, their hips and arms touching almost absentmindedly.  A man that Summer can’t recognize was perched upon another stool, pushing up his falling glasses. 

And, of course, there was Bucky…

He was in another sweater, and dark-washed jeans, unfairly tight, looking sinful next to Steve. His stormy eyes glinted at Summer in an unfathomable look. It was dangerously hard to look away.

“Hi,” Summer began. “Just wanted to say sorry about the last time. I’m on meds now, so I should be fine.”

“Um, hi,” The man that Summer didn’t know began. “I’m Bruce Banner.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Summer.” Summer introduced.                       

“Uh, so, basically, we just have some videos here,” Steve began, gesturing towards Tony, who was scrutinizing Summer shamelessly. “Footages with you in it. We’re just going to confirm if…”

“I’m not a bad guy?” Summer ended. A bitter smile graced her lips.

Because the problem was, she _was_ a bad guy.

She swallowed, trying to keep up her nonchalance. They had to find out the truth someday, right? She couldn’t hide forever, and they deserved the truth. Summer would just have to suck it up.

“Yeah, I guess.” Steve confessed lamely. “You can tell us if we’re misunderstanding or if there’s an explanation behind anything… so… shall we?”

Summer nodded. It was either now or… later, right? “Yeah.” She said. She braced herself a little, sucking in a breath, hardening her eyes, positioning her stance to be a bit more defensive. “Yeah, okay.”

Summer stood where she was, wrapping her arms around her, in front of her chest, as they turned on the videos. A blurry photo of a grocery isle came up and Summer felt her heart beat nervously. Okay. Not too bad of a start.

“Sandy’s Grocery,” Summer said quietly after a while. “They have the cheapest cans of baked beans and cocktail fruits. And no one ever checks the security camera.”

Everyone was silent as a hooded figure entered the scene, with a dark, ratty cap pulled low on the person’s face. The loose sweater looked dirty and old, which it was. The pants were torn and ripped, and not in the fashionable way either.

The person swooped down, swiping the cans of food from the bottom shelves, digging for the ones at the back, where the expiry dates were the latest.

They then stuffed it into their jacket, which was large enough not to make out the cylindrical shapes hidden underneath. They zipped it up, eyes darting from the left to the right, by turning their head, making it visible to the camera.

Sandy brown strands of hair. Even browner eyes. Crooked nose, busted lips.

There, in all of her imperfections, crouched Summer.

She felt the shame rising in her but packed it away. “I scour up enough money to get the cheapest pack of gum. To not make it so suspicious. Sometimes if I get lucky and find enough money, I pay for a can of beans.” Summer ended quietly, looking down at her feet. “They store well in the winter.”

No one said anything. Steve looked like he wanted to, but Natasha placed a hand on his arm.

Summer looked away as Stark pulled up a different video.

The next few videos were similar; it all ended up with Summer committing theft, each time wearing something dark and inconspicuous, and sometimes bringing along a bag to fill up the goods.

“Do people really never check the tapes?” Tony murmured.

“Even if they did, they wouldn’t find me.” Summer replied. “I made sure of it. Besides, it’s not like they’ll look in the middle of a forest or something.”

The next clip rolled, and Summer tensed immediately.

A dark alley. A flickering light at the side of the brick wall. A dirty metal door.

Summer didn’t need the bright neon sign at the side of the building to tell her where it was. She swallowed, flinching as the door slammed open. Though the clip was soundless, her memory wasn’t.

Summer came tumbling out first. Sandy hair looking lighter than usual underneath the neon yellow light, her dress so revealing and tight you’d be committing 10 sins if you just spared her a glance. She straightened and turned around, sexy smile on her face.

Next came a man. A man, big sized, and—

Her lungs tightened and Summer couldn’t breathe.

“Stop,” Summer choked over the word, feeling her breath rattle against her lungs, her heart starting to beat faster. “Stop the tape. Stop it, please!”

Steve turned, giving a concerned look. But the tape never stopped. It ran, and it ran, and Summer couldn’t tear her eyes away as the man kissed all over Summer’s body, which was presented by her as if it was a meal to be ravished. And it was, but it had meant to be only a _show,_ it was just a _show_.

Summer gasped, the sound strangled. This memory had plagued her mind ever since it had happened, but now to see it like this… now to have them, have _him_ , see it like this…

“Why?” It was Tony who asked, in a suspicious voice. “Did you do something terrible?”

 _Yes, no,_ fuck, _just stop!_

Summer was backing away, an obvious tremor in her legs as she revelled in the sensation of her fingernails digging into her palm, stopping herself from floating away into that horrible memory of _him against her, him_ in _her_ , _and that cold metal on her wrists, ripping at her skin like she was paper, like he was crumpling her, like she didn’t matter and she worth nothing more than something to be used._

He was dirty, and slimy, and filthy and so _wrong_. And the worst thing was, _so was Summer_.

Summer had shut her eyes, teeth clenched as she remembered the _red and blue, red and blue_ that the neon advertisement lights had changed into. Summer remembered thinking they were the police lights, coming to save her, but no one did. No one at all.

She tore her eyes open finally, a ragged breath wheezing through her throat, and stared at the screen. Summer had found the wallet. The man had grabbed her hand. She steeled herself.

Instead she hadn’t needed to. The footage flickered, becoming grainy, and then the image returned.

But instead of showing Summer her worst nightmare, it turned to maybe something even worse. It was something Summer had decided to never think of, never even _dare_.

There was a knife in Summer hands, and the sight had looked so familiar, but instead of using it to hurt herself, she drove it up the man’s stomach, the man spluttering and gasping, falling over. Summer pressed a hand to her mouth in surprise and shock and then bolted. The footage cut. Summer knew what happened next.

His men had chased her.

And instead of killing her…

 _They just did it again_.

A cry wrecked through Summer, terrified and fearful.

And then, and then afterwards, Summer had woken up, so dirty and covered in dirt and _them,_ and she had crawled into the first building she could find, and had taken shelter in an abandoned church.

How ironic.

Everyone was silent, the kind of silent that was so ugly and so loud, and Summer hated it, maybe even more than she hated the voices of monsters in her head. Silence was so much more condemning, and more importantly, and so much more _real_.

“Summer,” Steve breathed. “My God, Summer, why?”

“You don’t know what happened,” Summer cried out, the hideous sound tearing out of her throat like a nasty spew of poison. Steve flinched.

“I think I saw what happened.” Steve said softly. “We won’t judge you, we understand, but, really, Summer? You’d _kill_ a man, just for, what, that wallet that couldn’t have held 200 dollars?”

Summer screamed, agonizingly loud. “Stop it! You don’t know anything! You don’t know what happened, I don’t,” She sucked in a unashamed and noisy breath, gasping. “Don’t just fucking assume that shit, that I, that I—”

A sudden warmth encircled around her body, grounding her, pulling her back from the whirlwind sucking her into the dark bottomless pit. She shook at the sudden contact. The hand around her was grounding, but unlike pain, it was nice.

Summer liked nice. Summer leaned into the nice, sobs still coming out of her, but she contained them a little better now.

“Breathe.” It was a single word. Not an order, but a gentle reminder.  

Summer pressed herself into the warmth, sniffing in the grape and plum scent, and the smell of fresh, clean cotton and soap; the smell of a home she’s never even known, but a home all the same. She dug her face into it desperately, greedily, having found more comfort, more safety here than she’s ever known was possible. 

She felt the floor disappear beneath her feet as she grasped onto his neck, breath hitching before he reminded her once more to breathe.  

And you know Summer; she would do anything he told her to do, because there in a billion dollar tower, Summer had learned a thing called trust.

Well. No one ever said she was smart. 

\---

The sound of the running water was soothing in some ways, and Summer splashed it absentmindedly around the sink, watching it splatter. She then dabbed at her face, eyes dutifully staying away from the mirror as she splashed her heated face with the cooling water. She turned to find a cloth, a small smile appearing on her face as she noticed the bottles on the bath rack.

 _Grape scented body wash_.

So that’s why he smelled like grapes.

She supressed a chuckle.

She picked up the clean rag, wiping her face with it until it was dry before exiting the room timidly.

Bucky sat by his bed back straight, looking at Summer. Summer stayed by the doorframe.

A wobbly “I can explain—” were her first words but it was cut off.

“Don’t,” Bucky just said. “Just come here. Please.”

Summer shuffled over to Bucky, hesitant but doing it all the same, sitting down next to him, staring at the wall, while he stared at her. She winced internally, wondering how she must look like now to him. Damaged? Twisted? Dirty? A wry smile fell upon her lips. Well, she supposed it was right of him; she was, after all, all of the above.

Gentle hands worked their way to Summer’s waist, grabbing her in an unfamiliar tenderness, before moving her until she was sat on Bucky’s strong, safe thighs, straddling him, her own calves pressed down onto the mattress. He blinked at her, eyes filled with not just sympathy but sorrow and a terrible _understanding_ as one hand still circled her waist. A flash of heated anger sparked in Summer’s belly. How dare he begin to _understand,_ because God, he did _not_ , _you don’t understand at all._

But there he was, gentle and loving, fingers tracing her face, drawing random little patterns that felt like little universes. He kissed her collarbone carefully and swallowed.

“I’m sorry,” He began. “I’m so sorry, God, Summer, I’m sorry, and I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry, so sorry…”

He repeated the words, lips moving everywhere but her own, never kissing her, just murmuring against her, and she felt grateful for it, for not already taking advantage of that uncontrollable trust Summer had for him. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she marvelled at those long pianist fingers of his. Not in just the way they were long and slender, but in the way they could play the softest, the gentlest of notes, and yet they could play with such woefulness and vulnerability and anger and _force_ at the same time.

“It’s enough,” Summer finally said as she rested her head against Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s enough, Bucky.”

 _You’re enough_.

Bucky gave Summer a look like felt like a kiss. Summer traced a finger along his jaw. “So, what? You just believe me? Even though every single evidence seems to point right at me?”

Bucky looked painfully raw. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever made it seem like I don’t.”

Summer looked up, and felt amazed at the vulnerability in his eyes. He’s never looked this unguarded, not even after his nightmares. Someone like Bucky didn’t easily do this; emotion wasn’t something that easy with him.

So Summer tilted her head up, lips parted, and let Bucky kiss her. He tasted like plums, and as Summer touched him, fingers tracing and memorizing lines and contours of his powerful build, she realized what a mess they were. They were so different and alike, and they were so flawed. Their lips moulded imperfectly, their noses bumping into each other, the ridges alike but no in complement.

They were so unruly and they were made such a chaos together. Summer pressed into the kiss, desperate. Yet, somehow, they were like the most beautiful dissonance she’s ever known.

\--  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? So? Do you like it? *preens* i hope you dooooo I work very hard on this book, sometimes I feel uncertain because it's "only a fan fiction" and you know, why do I work so hard on it, but I love writing, I love writing this, and I hope you guys love reading it, so I'm actually doing this for some reason other than to quench my thirst for writing and writing about Bucky and Summer in specific, cos I've grown to love Summer. 
> 
> But, if you think that Summer's character is too, well, dynamic, I guess, kind of unstable and wonky, please tell me. I know who she is in my mind but I'm not sure if I've conveyed it right :/ So, feedback would be amazingly awesome, cos I love knowing what y'all think of this, and what y'all think of my writing. (Basically, I'm fishing for comments again, as per usual, nothing new--but serious though, comments are awesome, so I can know if you guys actually like this, or I'm wasting my time, or if you guys have grown bored of it, because, you know, it's a little boring. Comments also make me super super happy).
> 
> I don't know why but I feel like a vein on my right wrist is going to combust? Like it feels full? IDK WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY.
> 
> I just finished writing Chapter 10. it will only be up after Christmas I think, I'm very sorry, of if I can rush Chapter 11, I'll get it up on Christmas as a gift from me to youuuu! Merry Christmas everybody! Spreading my love all around! 
> 
> Also, my prayers are with the people and victims of Aleppo. My heart aches for you, and I'm so sorry for everything that has happened. I'm also extending my heart out to everyone else part of the war, everyone else that has lost someone so dear to them. I am happy for the ceasefire, but I wish so much that it would not have been under these circumstances. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Leave me a comment or question or a concrit, I'll be sure to answer! Love you all <3!  
> (also I recently read this FUCKING AMAZING book called Dissonance (by Erica O'Rourke) So.... if you noticed a very slight reference at the end, hmu. Heh.)


	10. Chapter Ten: Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more fluff than angst, kind of.

It didn’t really take much to weaken Bucky’s resolve. He used to think of himself as a person that never went against his word, but ever since Summer wobbled into his life, he seemed to be breaking more promises than ever.

He just couldn’t take it. The guilt, the shame, the overbearing _emptiness_ that he has become so adjusted to. But Summer… she just comes along, acting so invulnerable, humming a tune that sends an echo around the space of Bucky’s heart. A tune that he could only gruelingly admit he missed. A tune that has stopped resonating because of him. So he slammed his fist in the wall (sorry, Tony) and stormed out of door, telling himself that he was just going to see her to check if she was still okay.

He lied, of course. He ended up seeing her face, her lips, her jaw and her messy hair, and for some reason, he had not been able to resist himself. He spent 12 hours sitting beside Summer, just watching her, calming her down every time her heart started to accelerate with uncertain murmurs, unspeakable stories and lingering touches. Upon the 5th hour mark, Summer had clutched onto Bucky’s metal hand in a sudden, jerky movement.

She hasn’t let go since, and neither has Bucky.

Bucky was there as she murmured incoherently and blinked up, dark eyes looking up at him in this awful, sickening adoration. But as misplaced at that adoration was, Bucky still craved it against his better judgment.

But then he watched as she forgot all about it too. Andrea said it was best for her to recover thinking she had a peaceful, dreamless sleep, claiming that would stabilize her more.

Bucky was too tired, too _sick_ of pretending like he wasn’t aware that what she meant was that if Summer didn’t remember that _Bucky_ was there, she’d recover faster, stabilize better.

Bucky was a nuisance; for once, he wasn’t an asset but a liability. He understood, and he just felt so fucking exhausted of messing things up for Summer, so he let go of Summer’s hand, which had become cold under his touch, and swallowed his pride, turning around and leaving the room.

Andrea didn’t stop him, just moved aside and let him walk through the door.

The air was colder, lonelier outside, but Bucky’s was so used to that feeling that it was almost a second home. It was definitely much more familiar than the warmth of Summer—the warmth she holds in her sandy hair, in her chocolate eyes, and in her gentle touch. He ran his fingers through his hair, wishing it was hers, but instead settling for just relishing in phantom warmth around his cold, metallic hand.

Bucky made his way towards the elevator and pressed on the 52nd floor. After what Hydra had done to him, it was near impossible to get the soldier drunk.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

\--

Steve was already there by the time Bucky got to the bar.

He was sipping on a glass of whiskey, the brownish liquid swirling within, cubical ice cubes clinking against the sides of the cup. He looked up as Bucky purposefully scuffed his shoes against the marble floor to announce his presence.

“Hey Buck,” He just said, voice low and almost a whisper, knowing the soldier would hear him anyway. He looked down at his drink and gave an apologetic smile. “Thor hasn’t been back with any Asgardian ale lately… so, just whiskey today.”

Bucky just shrugged and sat next to him. Steve brought another glass and poured the drink into it, the two of them silently watching the alcohol as it glugged into the whiskey glass. He read the label just as Steve said, “Macallan M. 1939. Expensive as hell, but you know Tony. It’s good. Better than the crap we used to drink, that’s for sure.”

Bucky smiled finally; just a small quirk in his lips, but these days, just the slightest upturn in the corners of his mouth was considered a beam. It wasn’t that he was always upset, he had long gone through the phase, but he just still needed to learn how to show he was happy. Laughing or smiling wasn’t a widely popular action in Hydra. “Not even close to being as old as us.”          

Steve let out a chortle. He was definitely better at pretending to be happy than Bucky was; better at putting up a bright smile and a supportive front than he could ever learn to do. Being happy, being the firm, optimistic rock of their wolf pack of a superhero team was Steve’s job—one that Bucky could never succeed in.  Steve pushed the glass towards Bucky. “One shot of this would’ve sent us dead drunk back in the ‘30s.”

“Speak for yourself, punk,” Bucky said, finally showing some teeth, feeling encouraged by his friend’s grin.

The two of them shared a small chuckle, both amused and nostalgic.

Bucky tipped his head back as he downed the drink, the taste sharp and bitter down his throat. He swallowed.   

When Bucky set the glass back onto the table, he noticed Steve’s stare. He looked over and the blond tilted his head. “Bucky?” He asked. “Do you really like Summer?”

Bucky paused at the sudden and innocent question, at the sincere and curious look in Steve’s eyes. “I think so,” he finally said. “I…” he looked down. “I like it when she’s close. I like it when I’m touching her, or if I see her smile… I hate it when I hurt her.”

“Then why do you?” Steve asked softly.

Bucky’s throat closed, flexing. “Because it’s the only thing I do. Hurt people. It just proves she shouldn’t… I shouldn’t like her, shouldn’t bring her into my mess.”

“But don’t you want to stop hurting her?”

“I do,” Bucky said sharply, as if it were an accusation. “I do want to stop, but I can’t stay away from her, and every time I am with her, all I seem to be able to do is _hurt_ her.”

Steve stayed quiet for a moment.

“You know, Bucky?” Steve began and Bucky looked up at his best friend’s blue eyes, jaw still clenched, bracing himself from the _‘you don’t deserve her’_ or _‘she deserves better’,_ which Bucky knew, which Bucky had heard in his head in his own voice over and over again. “We’re the Avengers, we don’t need you to look after us.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knitted at that. “I don’t get it.”

Steve placed a big, soothing hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and it felt so familiar it hurt. That was Bucky’s move. He used to do that to the 5’4” Stevie all the time. “All I’m saying is that if Summer ends up being someone else, or being Hydra, and she ends up hurting us through you,” Steve said. “We’ll be able to take it.”

Bucky looked more confused than ever as Steve chuckled lightly. “Go be selfish, Buck.” He winked. “Orders from your CO.”

\---

Bucky had been sitting outside Summer’s bedroom fidgeting when she let out a hoarse cry. He jolted upwards from his slumped stance against the wall, eyes wide and alert.

A second later, he heard the loud pounding of shoes against the carpeted floor. He stood up, catching a glimpse of a young girl as he slinked away, rounding the corner. He heard a door being slammed open. He strained his ears. Summer sounded fine, while Andrea sounded panicked. He decided it was good that someone cared about her, and was able to show that care.

He swallowed. If a fourteen year old girl could do that, why couldn’t he? He cared about Summer, more than he enjoyed admitting…

Andrea left soon after and before Bucky could gather his thoughts, he had walked over to the door. He pushed it open.

It was completely empty.

He was surprised, eyes immediately darting towards the window. He scolded himself soon after for his suspicions when he noticed that the toilet light was on, and the water was running.

Awkwardly, he moved until he was sitting on the bed. It was warm. He ran a hand over the covers.

The door opened and he looked up.

A sudden panic settled in him, as if mocking him. What if Summer wanted nothing to do with Bucky anymore? Bucky would obviously respect that decision, if not encourage it, and leave, but it would hurt, despite knowing how fucking bad he was for her. Bucky scolded himself once more for being so selfish. Hurt as much as he wanted, it would never be hurtful as what he’d done to Summer, that was for sure.

“What the fuck?” Summer’s voice hissed out, shock evident in her voice. Bucky lifted his head up at the sound and saw her clutching the fabric on her chest. He darted his eyes immediately away from the sight. He didn’t want another reason for Summer to hate him; he’d given her enough reasons already.

He realized he was still sitting and quickly onto his feet, seemingly having forgotten his gracefulness as he stumbled. He eyed Summer and slowly moved towards her.

“Summer,” He just said, unable to really say anything else. The need to apologize burned on his tongue, but he was too scared that saying it would remind Summer of everything. _And_ _then he’d have to leave_. So he just said it again, putting every ounce of his emotions into it, praying to God she’ll hear them. “ _Summer_.”

Summer didn’t say anything at first, just looked at Bucky’s face, searching. Bucky felt his heart stumble anxiously. _Please don’t hate me._ “Bucky,” She said, his name sounding so soft, which was something he definitely wasn’t. It sounded so sweet. It shouldn’t. She should be _hating_ Bucky, but then again, Bucky would do anything for her _not_ to.

Oh, God. What did he even want?

But Summer, _Summer,_ she just smiled at him, eyes caressing his face, not piercing holes into him like he’d expected.

He squeezed his eyes shut. _God_. Why was she acting like this, like Bucky hadn’t just taken her heart and ripped it to shreds? Why did it seem that in her eyes, Bucky was still a good man—a _god—_ when he knew he was anything but?

Bucky didn’t understand Steve. He _was_ selfish, so much so that he hated himself for it. He was so selfish that even when he knew that Summer was so wrong for never seeing Bucky for the monster he was, he still held on to that; he still held on to the sweetness that Summer offered him, even though she should never have done so in the first place.

He suppressed a whimper as he felt a wet drop fall on his cheek. “Please don’t hate me.” He whispered softly. “God, please,” He stumbled backwards. “Summer, please don’t hate me.” He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to hide himself from her. _She should never have to see someone like me_. “Don’t hate me…”

His breathing started to become labored. Summer needed to tell Bucky that she hated him. Bucky needed the closure, needed the hard punch so he could stop fucking thinking, fantasizing about Summer and him. He needed to stop hurting himself, stop hurting _her._

As he pleaded, he suddenly felt a warm touch on his back, spreading all throughout his skin. He shuddered uncontrollably at the heat. He grounded himself to the touch, calming down. It was kind of baffling to Bucky himself how easily Summer could calm him.

And then she said the words, the words that almost sent another flurry of uncontainable emotion into Bucky’s heart. “I don’t hate you.” God, it sounded like a dream. “God, Bucky,” A soft chuckle. “I don’t think I _can_.”

He didn’t know how to feel about that. “Do you… want to?” He asked hoarsely.

She paused for a while, finger moving absentmindedly along his back. He had to force every fiber of his being into not shuddering or shivering against her graceful fingertips. “I don’t think I have a say,” She finally admitted. “It’s just not possible.”

Bucky nodded. That answer was good enough. His heart was still trying to understand how Summer did not hate him. Half of him wanted to reprimand Summer, tell her every reason why she _needed_ to hate Bucky, while the other half, the more demanding half, was whooping in joy.  “Okay.”

“Do _you?”_ Summer asked instead. “Want to?”

“I did,” Bucky confessed, looking down. “Maybe I still do. I don’t know. All I know is I can’t. Never.”

“Then why did you?” Summer’s voice sounded like an accusation, filled with so much betrayal and it hurt, piercing straight into Bucky’s heart.

“I didn’t,” and that was the truth. As much as Bucky could try to force himself into hating Summer, he knew he couldn’t. That was why she was so dangerous, that was why he was so afraid. Bucky knew he wouldn’t just fall in love with Summer, but that he would drive himself mad hanging onto her every breath, like each of them were a prayer. He would tear apart worlds for Summer if that was what she wanted. Bucky thought that was funny, because it was uncanny how much Summer was like Hydra, except she would never need special words or a machine to tell Bucky what to do.

All she needed was her smile and Bucky was a goner.

This, this Steve did not understand, Steve could not even begin to realize. Sure, the Avengers would be likely to take care of the situation, would be able to pick themselves back up when Summer, _if_ Summer would betray them, but _what about Bucky_? The Avengers were strong, _Steve_ was strong, Bucky was just good at fooling the world of thinking so.

Steve and the rest, they would be okay if Summer left. But Bucky. What would he do then? _Fix_ himself?

But he was too tired to build himself back up again, not when he’d just taken down the walls to let this stupidly clumsy girl in. And even if he did end up doing just that, he wasn’t sure if the pieces were still intact enough to be built back together, or if they’d just crumble into ash in his hands. Because that was what Bucky did, that was what he did best— _destroy_.

Summer was quiet. “Well, you made it look like you did.”

“I tried very hard.” Bucky murmured. “I tried to hate you. But I can’t stand the idea of you hating me… I guess that makes me a hypocrite,” He tried flashing a smile. “What else is new?”

Summer let go with a deep breath, hands falling back to her sides. A flash of white caught Bucky’s eyes. He frowned. “Summer?” He asked slowly as he picked up Summer’s hand. His breath hitched. “Oh… God,” He whispered, his voice cracking. “Summer, why?”

White bandages were wrapped all over Summer’s arms, a telltale sign of what she had done. Summer looked down—whether it was in shame or embarrassment Bucky didn’t know—and Bucky felt like crying.

“Fuck!” He screamed, releasing it in a burst of anger instead. “Oh God,” He cried out. “How can you not hate me? _I_ fucking hate me!”

Bucky let go of Summer’s hand to pull on his hair, clenching his teeth. Oh, _Summer_. She didn’t deserve it at all. He pulled his nails over his face, trying to hurt himself for hurting Summer. The sting of pain on his face didn’t even begin to match the one in his stomach.

“Bucky, stop,” Summer’s voice was calm, but etched with a slight worry and Bucky opened his eyes. Summer had reached out, and clasped her hands behind him. She reeled him in gently, enveloping him in her bubble.

“Summer,” He said once he was calmer. “You don’t deserve this, _at all_.”

He prayed to God Summer would believe him, because it was the most truthful thing he’s ever said.

“Neither do you.” Summer replied firmly. She splayed her palm over his back and rubbed carefully, gently, softly. Bucky melted into her touch. She then pressed her forehead against Bucky’s and now that she was so close, he realized that her eyes sometimes became a little lighter underneath the dappled moonlight. “Buck.”

“Summer,” Bucky replied, her name feeling like a prayer; _his_ prayer. He was expecting her to say something more, something that would break their moment, but she didn’t.

Summer just smiled, like that was everything she needed.  Bucky whispering her name, Bucky in her arms, Bucky’s hands around her waist, and their foreheads pressed together, breaths fanning across each other. 

Bucky realized he could stay here forever.

For once, the thought did not scare him.

\---

It was certainly quite strange. Bucky never thought he would fall in love, at least not this way. Not this much,  this fast, this dizzyingly, and definitely not with someone like Summer.

Not that he’d spent a lot of time picturing who he’d end up with. But whenever he did, it was someone completely different. It would be someone in his line of work, only so he wouldn’t be introducing a new danger into the person’s life. They would be just as dangerous and deadly as Bucky, just so it would cancel out. It wouldn’t be someone that Bucky could put in harm’s way just by being with them.

It would be someone relatively easy in the sense of the romance, someone who Bucky wouldn’t love so fiercely that if they were to die, Bucky wouldn’t hurt too much over it. Just someone to have by his side and call a ‘lover’, to satisfy those needs of his. And Bucky wouldn’t be using them, because they would be using him for the same reasons anyway.

It would be someone… convenient.

Summer stirred in his arms, lips smacking together noisily after she released a loud yawn. She mumbled something incoherent before she snuggled back into the soft, wooly sweater that Bucky was wearing. He smiled lightly; she was such a snuggly person. Surprisingly, Bucky liked it. He tensed a little when she winced as her wound brushed against the bedframe, but then she sighed and melted back into Bucky and he settled back into her warmth.

Summer definitely did not know the beginning of convenience.

Bucky kissed the top of her head, unable to control the loving motion.

He would not have it, would not have _her,_ any other way.

\---

“Mr. Barnes?” Friday lilted. “Don’t worry. I made sure Ms. Summer was in deep sleep before calling for you.” She murmured lowly at Bucky’s concerned gaze down at the figure still in his arms, her limbs like suction cups sticking onto Bucky. It was actually kind of endearing.

“Mr. Rogers requested your presence. Ms. James and Dr. Banner will be there as well.” Friday announced and Bucky put two to two and decided that Ms. James must be Andrea.

“I’ll be there in about 5 minutes.” He said tiredly before looking down at the human octopus. “Maybe 10.”

“Noted, Mr. Barnes. The rest will be in the longue waiting.”

Bucky sighed. It wasn’t unusual for him to stay up all night, but he had been quite tired with what had happened over the past days. But he told himself he needed to stay up, in case Summer needed him. It was a ridiculous thought, seeing that she could easily wake up the light sleeper he’d train himself to be if the need arose, but still. Bucky wanted to make sure that _if_ Summer were to need him, he would be there waiting, like a constant.

It took Bucky a lot of maneuvering to get out of Summer’s hands and legs, which she had pushed in between his, tangling them together. He suppressed a loving chuckle. How on earth did she even survive out there, being such a massive cuddler? The thought made Bucky amused and sad. He leaned down, pecked her head, and then left for the lounge.

Bruce and Andrea were engaged in a quiet conversation while Steve was sitting with a mug of tea, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked warily.

Andrea looked up. Steve gave an acknowledging nod and a tired smile, while Bruce sighed deeply. “Andrea,” Bruce gave a pointed stare at the girl, who sulked in her seat, “has encouraged Summer to have therapy.”

Bucky paused. “What’s the problem?”

“She wants _Andrea_ to be the therapist,” Bruce explained, side-eyeing the girl who sat there with an upset purse in her lips.

Bucky thought over it. “I mean, she is pretty talented in what she does, and if she is qualified…”

“I am,” Andrea defended, perking up. “Master’s degree in psychology and neurology.” She sunk into the cushion nervously. “I had to lie to Summer. I didn’t want her thinking I was some sort of expert; she wouldn’t trust me then.”

“Okay, so she is qualified… and it’s not like she and Summer  are close or know each other very well, so why not? Aside from the fact that you’re like, 14.” Bucky asked.

Andrea winced, sighing deeply  as she darted her eyes towards Bruce who nodded, placing a hand on her lap. Bruce sounded protective as he said, “Andrea has dissociative identity disorder.”

Bucky paused at that. He hadn’t expected something like that. Sure, Andrea had seemed a little strange, but it was in the way that children often were. Bucky felt a pang of pity as Andrea looked down at   Bruce’s words, as if embarrassed by it.  

She shrugged. “It’s why I can recognize Summer’s psychotic behaviors.”

“She can have mood swings sometimes. We call her other personality Angelina, just so that I can easily know who it is at the time, since she doesn’t have a big green monster to showcase the difference.” Bruce murmured wryly, which induced a quiet smile from Andrea.

“It doesn’t happen much anymore,” Andrea argued. “I went through all sorts of therapy. Cognitive behavioral therapy, hypnotherapy, eye movement desensitization and reprocessing, and then I’ve had medicine, I still do. And then… exposure therapy, dealing with my past trauma…”

Bruce slapped a hand over his eyes, distressingly rubbing against it. It was one of his ticks when he was stressed. “I know I should’ve said this, but…” He glanced over at Andrea, who looked ghastly pale but gave an exhausted nod. Bruce looked up again apologetically.

“Andrea was Hydra.”

\--

Bucky didn’t react for a moment. Bruce took that as a sign to explain.

“She was only a kid. It’s been about 10 years since she left. Her parents were poor. Hydra needed a test subject, a young one under five. Andrea was four, and they gave a large sum of money for a child. So they gave her away.” Bruce began. Bucky turned towards Steve, who seemed like he had already heard the story but was still processing it.

“They were doing tests, experiments,” Andrea whispered next, like saying it too loud would make it true. Bucky understood, and he pitied the young girl. At least he had known better when Hydra had captured him. At least he had a fighting chance.

Not that he had won.

“They were injecting children with something, I don’t know what. Children were dying, I remember smelling something awful.  I didn’t know what it was, until I realized it was the stench of death.” Andrea murmured. “Some didn’t die. I was one of them, but that didn’t mean the experiment succeeded.”

“We’re still working to find out what it was that they injected,” Bruce interrupted softly.

“The children that survived weren’t normal. They had speech defects, cognitive deficits. Most developed psychological disorders: Schizophrenia, Bipolar disorder, Autism, personality disorders, like DID.” She didn’t sound bitter, just matter-of-fact. “I developed the last.”

“She also had an expanded IQ,” Bruce added. “Which is currently at 162, and it might increase again. A brain-mapping showed amplified usage of her frontal and temporal lobes.” After a small pause he added, “The frontal  is used for problem solving and creativity, and the temporal for… memory.”

Andrea gave a wretched smile. “So I remember pretty much everything.”

Bucky swallowed at that. Jesus, this kid…

She paused and looked up, her eyebrows furrowed almost pleadingly, blank eyes replaced with a begging look. “But I promise I have been much better even since Bruce took me in. I can do this.”

“I’ve experimented with a few things, like the sedative that keeps the other guy down. Consensually, of course,” Bruce murmured.  Andrea didn’t pay him any attention.

“Please. I can help Summer. I understand her.” She said quietly. “She’s been wronged, a lot, Bucky. You know that. I just want to help… I’ve done a lot of wrong things myself, and I would like to do something good with my knowledge instead.”  She gulped. “I’ve done… some bad things with it before Bruce found me.”

Bucky looked at her, searching her eyes, looking for a glint, something malicious, or maybe deceiving. There was nothing else other than guilt and a plea. Bucky related very much to that. He flashed a small smile. “Well, Natasha does say, ‘Wiping out the red in her ledger.’” He nodded. “I’m fine with you helping Summer.”

Andrea smiled, a full-blown grin and Bucky was reminded once again how young she was. She looked so happy that Bucky almost expected her to squeal. She contained herself before she could though and instead thanked Bucky. “Hear that, Bruce?”

“Yeah, yeah,” The older man looked down at her with an affectionate smile. “But just because you’ve got the certificate for it doesn’t mean it will work out perfectly, okay? And if you’re ever feeling Angelina…”

“I’m not stupid. I’ll take your pills every day. I’ll submit a personality check-list with you too. And I will not keep the room locked. So she can run away. Or I could.” Andrea said after a pause. She flashed a weak smile at Steve and Bucky. “Angelina can be a little… wobbly.”

\---

Summer entered the room with a weak, nervous smile. Bucky pitied her. They must look very intimidating, especially when gathered all together like this. He knew that feeling firsthand. He had been scared as shit when he first met all of them. Steve had assured him that they weren’t going to pounce on him, of course, but still. Bucky still only had one arm, and if they were to fight, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

The look on Summer’s face made it look like she was thinking the same thing.

Bucky thought it was quite awful that he thought the expression looked cute on Summer. But he couldn’t really deny the fact that her shy, uncertain self was just as lovable as all her other traits.

God, Bucky was a sap.

“Hi,” Summer began, coughing as she realized how soft she sounded. “Just wanted to say sorry about last time.” She gave a depreciating smile. “I’m on meds now,” She perked up at this, and the look hurt Bucky’s brittle heart. “So I should be fine.”

There was a short moment of silence before Bruce introduced himself.  “Hi, I’m Bruce Banner.”

Summer gave an acknowledging nod. “Nice to meet you, I’m Summer.”

Steve began to explain her reason being here, and then it started. Tony pulled up the first footage on the holographic screen.

Even though Bucky knew he should be watching the screen, his eyes were focused solely on Summer, only ever darting to look at the screen when her chest rose up more than usual, or her inhales  grew sharper. 

Bucky didn’t really feel bothered about her admittance of her thieving lifestyle; it had, once, been Bucky’s too. Two years on the run with no money, Bucky had to have a way of survival. Morals weren’t really a part of the question; he’d done so much worse. And it wasn’t like he stole from the poor. Instead of like Summer, who liked to steal mainly from local stores, Bucky stole from emporiums. But he supposed it made sense. He was after all, a master thief; as the Winter Soldier, he was not taught only massacre and bloody murder. Above all else, he had been taught how to be quiet, how to evade cameras and attention, to be the ghost that most had believed him to be. Summer, on the other hand, just wanted to _stay alive_ and stay out of people’s way in general.

Summer really didn’t deserve it.

Bucky’s eyes skimmed over Summer’s face just as she suddenly tensed, eyes widening slightly as she swallowed, face paling just the slightest. He turned to the screen.

The setting was familiar. It was the bar, Movita.

Bucky’s eyes strayed back to Summer. She had paled, fingers curling into a fist, throat strained, like she was ready to release a scream or deliver a punch. Defensive. Bucky turned back to the screen.

The door had slammed open, much like how it did in the last video Bucky had seen, but instead of the built agent, it was a big, burly man that came stumbling out, looking just as piss-drunk as Summer was faking to be.

“Stop,” It came first as a whisper, and Bucky turned his head. Summer’s eyes were filled with a wild, desperate look. “Stop the tape. Stop it, please.”

Bucky turned to Tony, giving him a look that said stop. Tony lifted his chin. He rolled his eyes. They could call him untrusting as much as they want, but the truth was that Tony was the one that needed the most convincing, the stubborn mule. “Why?” He asked. “Did you do something terrible?”

Bucky glared at him harder before turning sharply back at Summer.

Her eyes were flashing an unrestrained panic, her legs wobbling as she moved backwards as if she were being cornered. Her fingers clenched, wincing as the man on the screen reached to touch up Summer’s skirt.

Bucky saw the beginnings of a struggle, her chest heaving wretchedly in her body’s desperate attempt  to breathe, her exhales coming out in a shaky rattle. It sounded so awful, like torture, like pain, and it resonated in Bucky’s head.

Summer finally pried her eyes open, though they were wet and wary, and they continued to blink at the screen.

The screen blurred, crackling, but then the muted tones of the security camera returned, depicting Summer and the man again.

Except Summer had somehow produced a knife and before Bucky could process that, she had driven it straight into the man’s chest.

Both real-life Summer and footage Summer’s jaw fell open wordlessly. Bucky didn’t know which one to pay attention to anymore.  It didn’t seem to really matter because the footage stopped there, and everyone turned to face the real one.

But…

Bucky focused on the paused image on the screen once more, eyebrows furrowed, before turning to face Summer. He stood up, ready to move towards her if she so needed. But she looked so shaken up, he decided to leave her there first.

“Summer,” Steve was the first to speak. Bucky snapped towards him, eyes narrowed at what he was going to say. “My God, Summer, why?”

Bucky looked around. Did no one see that? A burst of anger flared through him as he glared at everyone.

Because everyone had been too busy to see the other man’s blood spilling down his body, no one had noticed the red between Summer’s face, and the ones staining her legs.

“You don’t know what happened,” Summer said, in a coarse, breathless voice, like someone who had screamed help one too many times.

“I think I saw what happened,” Steve tried to soothe her in his soft voice, hands stretched out like he was only offering a sympathetic touch, not an accusation. But Bucky knew that sometimes it was difficult to differentiate the two. “We won’t judge you, we _understand,”_ Bucky cringed. “… But really, Summer? You’d kill a man just for, what? 200 dollars?”

“Stop it,” She screamed out a plea. “You don’t know anything! You,” She breathed sharply. “You don’t know what happened, I don’t… Don’t fucking assume that I, that I—”

Bucky had moved towards her, and wrapped her into his arm in an almost protective stance. He turned his head and glared at Tony and then at Steve, conveying a silent, _shut the fuck up_. He turned his attention back onto Summer who had smashed her face tightly against Bucky’s cotton-cladded chest. He felt her suck in a deep intake of air and relaxed a little. He had been worried that she couldn’t breathe like that. Still, he wouldn’t chance it.

“Breathe,” He said, more of a precaution. Summer seemed to fall slack in his arms at his voice and Bucky put his nose down against Summer’s hair. He rubbed her back before picking her up, her body going easily into his arms, not a single muscle fighting back.

The amount of trust sent Bucky’s heart into a squealing, overjoyed fit. What a nice change from his usual hissy one.

\--

Summer entered the room, taking one step before deciding that maybe it was better to stay by the door. “I can explain,” She began but Bucky was having none of it.

“Don’t,” He just said, “Just come here.” Realizing it might’ve sounded a little bossy, he added, “Please.”

Summer tentatively walked over to him, doubtful, but walking regardless. She ceased into a stop as she ended up right in front of Bucky, before she moved to his side and sat down carefully where Bucky was patting. He looked at her, the hair framing her face, and her high cheekbones. He smiled, slightly mirthful, as Summer purposefully kept her eyes away from Bucky.

He sighed and reached to her waist, latching his hands onto both of her sides, tugging her, lifting her up until she was settled into his lap, facing him, _straddling_ him. For once, it seemed, the position didn’t seem suggestive. Just comforting. Just _close._

Bucky reached out a finger gingerly and touched Summer’s skin.  It was cool from the water she’d splash across it, but hot from her fervent blush. He smiled, and then ran the finger across her cheeks. She was so beautiful. The dip below her cheekbones, the edge of her jaw, the slightly flat looking tip of her nose, the lines on her lips… she was just simply beautiful.

Bucky couldn’t explain, wouldn’t explain it, because he was selfish (orders from his CO) and he wanted it all to himself. He was scared that if he pointed it out, others would start seeing it too, and then Summer’s beauty would be known to everyone, but _no_. Summer’s beauty needed patience to see, patience that Bucky was so grateful he had learned.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Thank fucking God for giving Bucky his, then.

He couldn’t help himself, ducking down and grazing his lips against her protruding collarbone, feeling more than hearing her stuttered breath.

“I’m sorry,” He finally gathered the strength to say. He tried to relay everything in those two words, of everything he was _sorry_ about, sorry for. “I’m so sorry. God, Summer. I’m sorry… and I know it’s not enough,” Bucky remembered the flash of image again and shook his head and closed his eye, placing his forehead against Summer’s heart, the beat of it calming him down. “But I’m so sorry… I’m sorry, God…”

Bucky kept saying it, hoping Summer would hear the truthfulness in it, but also hoping she would know that he knew just saying it didn’t mean it was alright.

“It _is_ enough,” Summer finally said and he blinked up. “It’s enough Bucky,” She murmured again as she pushed his hair away from his eyes.

God, she was an angel. The light bounced off her hair, creating a halo just to prove Bucky right.

She traced a finger over his hairline. “So, what?” She asked, tone almost wry, “You just… believe me? Even though all the evidence seems to point right at me?”

Bucky’s shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry if I ever made it look like I don’t.”

_Because I do, and I would, through and through and through._

Summer gave Bucky a long look, eyes searching through his and Bucky hoped she found what she wanted. She chuckled, almost in disbelief, and then with a shy smile, he gave him a questioning look.

Bucky gave an answering one back.

And then Summer’s lips was on his, and he couldn’t think straight.

He wanted to laugh. She even tasted like caramel. He needed to order more of those Godiva ones. The look in her eyes when she had seen them… Summer pushed harder against him, so hard that it made Bucky forget any other thoughts aside from the feeling of her against him. She moved beautifully against him, and Bucky brushed his hand over her skin, moving up until he placed them on her face. Beautiful. She felt beautiful.

And strangely enough, there, with her lips on him, so did he.

\---

Bucky was filled to the brim with contentedness and he was overflowing with joy. Summer’s rhythmic pulse was a comfort against his body, and even though Bucky’s insomnia prevented him from sleeping, it still felt like a dream with her right there in his arms.

But all good things must come to an end.

Bucky just wished the end wasn’t so fucking soon.

The alarm blared out and Summer jolted up, confused. Bucky would’ve just stared at her and think, _just how much more adorable can you get_ if he did not recognize what this specific alarm meant.

Not just an emergency, not just the need to suit up and dash towards the crime scene.  No. This was an intrusion.

Bucky’s heart stilled at the blaring tune.

It was a Hydra ambush.

\---

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Merry Christmas! I'm a little late, so I'm extremely sorry, but there was this whole dinner thing at a friend's, and I was deadbeat tired when I came home, so yeah. Also, Happy Hanukkah! And happy Dongzhi too, or the Winter Solstice Festival, although I would be kind of late on that. I, myself, celebrate that, and if you do, yay :P 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys liked this chapter. This is the first chapter that is beta'ed by the very, very wonderful  
> [Savannah](bananasforthewin6.tumblr.com)  
> She has been extremely helpful, and I hope this chapter is a little more polished because of her. 
> 
> Please leave any feedback if you wish to do so, comments always cheer me on! I am currently still working on chapter 11, so the next chapter will be up maybe a little late :( But, it will be quite the eventful chapter, which you can probably tell due to the cliffhanger I've left you all on. Sorry about that. But seriously, hope you guys enjoyed this one; I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave a kudos if you like this, and thanks so much for the people who already did, and the people who left comments for my ego to nibble on. <3 til next time


	11. Chapter Eleven: Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unforeseen Hydra attack causes things to go terribly, terribly wrong...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay of this chapter! I was in America! Yeah! It was awesome! (The plane ride though... so awful... 33 effing hours...)
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys like this one. The pain is real.

Summer woke up in an upside-down world.

She squinted her eyes, still hazy with sleep, until letting out a small, surprised squeak as she realized that in her direct light of vision was Bucky’s ass, clad in tight, leathery black pants, flexing with every move he made. Summer felt her throat dry instantly at that, the warming of her cheeks having nothing to do with being slung over Bucky’s shoulder.

 _Damn_ …

“Summer?” Bucky called out, pausing as he adjusted his grip on her. His voice was gruff and husky. Oh, _God,_ this was not fair at all. “Are you awake?”

“Uh,” Summer stuttered, breathless, and fumbled over her vocabulary; the sight was very distracting. “Um. Yes. I think… Mm hmm.”

At this, Bucky let out a loud, panicked-sounding huff, which shook Summer out of her daze. She blinked, slowly feeling more alert, and registered the throbbing sound being played from all corners of the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, noticing the tenseness in Bucky’s legs even though he strode through the corridor smoothly, footsteps soundless even with the additional weight. “Why are you carrying me?” _Not that I’m complaining…_ “And what’s with that sound?” She winced at the loud blare of the alarm.

Bucky said nothing. Summer pursed her lips, going over her memory, trying to recall anything she’d done that might have upset Bucky. She panicked as she couldn’t think of anything. Maybe she said something awful in her dreams. Maybe they found the rest of the video.

Her stomach churned nervously.

He walked until stopping in front of what Summer could barely make out as a door. 

“Sergeant Barnes, authorization to access.”

A beep sounded. “Access granted.”

The door hummed open and Bucky stepped through it, setting Summer down. She wobbled for a second before she could balance herself. She looked up at Bucky, throat dry for reasons very different than the one before.

She frowned. He wasn’t looking at her, but rather through her, which would have worried her immensely if not for the fear and panic between the blues and greys of his eyes.

“Bucky?” Summer murmured. “Hey… can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Bucky didn’t respond immediately. Summer reached out a hand to touch his face, his stubble prickly against her skin. “Bucky, please talk to me. Are you okay?”

Her words seemed to have broken a spell. Bucky’s cold, lifeless demeanour was gone, replaced with a look filled with uncertainty and worry. “Summer,” He said in a cracked voice, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of sandy brown hair behind Summer’s ear. His eyebrows were knitted together, forehead creased. His hand returned to his own face, resting it atop Summer’s.

“What’s going on?” Summer asked, a little more firmly now that she knew Bucky wasn’t mad at her. That didn’t mean that the tightening in her chest had stopped. There was still a growing worry and panic, the feeling growing with every blare of the alarm.

Bucky just swallowed and closed his eyes, still not answering.

“What?” Summer asked, trying to give a light smile even though her heart was growing heavy with concern. “Is there some sort of apocalyptic event going on somewhere?”

“No,” Bucky said instantly before wincing. “Yes. Maybe.” He sighed, distressed. “And not somewhere. Here.”

As if to prove his point, a loud explosion thundered,  shaking what felt like the whole floor.  Summer gasped, jumping. Bucky immediately wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into the safety of his arms. She planted her forehead on his chest, shocked at the quake.

“Summer,” Bucky murmured worriedly.

“Are you going to—” She gulped.

_Leave? Fight?_

_Die, while you’re at it?_

Summer suppressed the burst of fear at the thought. No. He can’t… _leave_. Not when she had just _found_ him. Not when she _needed_ him this much.

Her shoulders slumped at the surge of realization.

Summer’s hand slipped between Bucky’s face and his hand. She had been so selfish that she had not realized how demanding Bucky’s job would be,  or how threatening it was. And above all, how stressful. He was needed by the world; she shouldn’t pile on even more responsibility and _obligation_.

Because God knows that if he had a choice, it would be another girl—a _woman, a lady_. It would be someone powerful, strong, and plenty gorgeous next to him. He wouldn’t be settling for someone like Summer. 

She straightened with conviction, putting on a brave smile. She needed to be her own saviour, for Bucky’s sake. She needed to stop being so weak.  Bucky wouldn’t like a weak girl.

Bucky would _leave_ a weak girl.

“Bucky, I can take care of myself,” She stated firmly. “You go and save some people.” _People worth saving_. _People with families, people with homes. People out there who loved and were loved, who had plenty of opportunities in the world, people who made an impact._

People Summer wished she could be. People that Summer ultimately wasn’t.

But enough with the pity. Life was tough, so Summer needed to be tougher. That’s how it had always been. She seemed to have forgotten. 

She was surprised at herself. She seemed to have forgotten most the principles she’d been living by since being taken in by these people. Needing someone was wrong. You could never depend on someone. And trust? Oh, boy. Trust was a mortal sin.

And love… Well, it wasn’t that Summer had a rule against love. It was just kind of obvious that she would never find it. It was one of her constants. The sun was bright, water was wet, and Summer would never be loved. She has accepted his long ago.

But now… seeing him… she couldn’t help wondering if things could be different.

“Please, Summer,” Bucky said, wild eyes looking at Summer as he held her. “Please stay here.”

That was when Summer realized. Bucky hadn’t been scared for himself all along. The fear, the worry— it hadn’t been for himself. He had been, since the beginning, scared for _her_.

Summer flushed and nodded. Another loud boom rang out and she let out a surprised breath, starting to feel the gravity of the situation as Bucky’s grip tightened. Her stomach clenched.

“Will you,” Summer asked, tearing her eyes away from Bucky, hoping if she didn’t look at him, she’d feel less embarrassed by the needy question. “Will you come back for me, once it’s over?”

 _Fucking hell, Summer,_ She swore in her head immediately after. _You’re such a fucking idiot._

She was about to apologize and retract her request when she felt Bucky’s warm flesh hand rub against her waist.

He didn’t seem to find the request embarrassing at all. Instead, his eyes turned fierce and stormy. “Yes.” His voice lacked doubt—it was firm and certain.

“Can you…” Summer trailed off, feeling her face flush a deeper red. “Promise?”

Bucky looked confused for a moment before he smiled, so warm, melting away the ice in his eyes. He lifted a gloved finger and Summer silently registered the fact that it was his metal hand as he touched her skin, in a graze filled with so much emotion she shivered underneath the contact. She was amazed at how human this hand was, not just in the way it looked, in the way it was shaped, or in the way it conformed to Bucky’s body, but in the way it had feelings of its own, and, oh, how strongly did it feel. Summer pressed into it. 

“I, James Buchanan Barnes, promise I will come back to you, Summer No-Last-Name,” He whispered sweetly. Summer softened. He had said _to you,_ not _for_. The detail was slight but it touched Summer so deeply. His fingers traced Summer’s face and then lifted her chin up. His eyes were earnest. “Don’t suppose you have a middle name either?”

Summer laughed softly, her heart fluttering as Bucky flashed her a small grin, one she’d never seen before. It was so playful and mischievous that Summer lost her breath a little seeing it. _Holy shit_ …

Outside, a bomb detonated, and the floor quaked. But inside here, in this room, Summer felt protected by this promise, like nothing could ever hurt her. They could try, but Bucky was hers, and what more could she want?

Bucky traced his fingers over her lips. It was so difficult to imagine that a finger that could be so gentle, so tender could also snap a man’s neck within a flat second. At this thought, Summer felt an overwhelming sense of realization. Bucky did not just trust Summer. No, it wasn’t as simple as that.

Bucky trusted _himself_ with Summer.

“Is it Hydra?” She asked instead of confronting the blaze of emotion in her heart. She didn’t know much about Hydra or what they did, but Bucky’s eyes hardened at the mention of them. She realized then how little she knew about this man. She didn’t even know his favourite colour. She frowned softly, looking up at him. The frown was gone, replaced by a small smile. Well. She sure knew hers.

“Yeah.” Bucky confirmed just as another boom sounded. He growled and tugged Summer even closer, their chests bumping together, their heat so great their skin melded as one. Bucky was so tall, he loomed over Summer so much that she had to strain and bend back a little to look at him. “I need to go, Summer. Please stay here. Stay safe.”

Summer nodded. She could do that. She could keep that promise as long as Bucky kept his end of the deal and _came back to her._

Bucky took a step backwards, heading towards the door before he hesitated, turning swiftly and stalking back towards Summer. She grinned, feeling her cheeks heat as he leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. She hummed gratefully, lips tingling with his promise. A promise that he’d be back for _more_. He leaned back and gave another one of those impossible grins. “I’ll be back.” And then he was off, Summer’s eyes guiltily trained on his ass as the door slid shut.

She took a deep breath, eyeing her reflection in the metal door. They would be fine, Summer knew that much. She didn’t know who Hydra was, but she did know that the Avengers were a group of ass-kicking superheroes. _Bucky_ was an ass-kicking superhero (and boy did he have a nice one).

She knew all this. She knew they’d be alright.

But for Summer…Summer could pretend all she wanted, but she wasn’t strong. Not when there wasn’t an audience to perform for. 

She shook her head. No. For Bucky, for herself, she had to get a fucking grip. She could do this. She could be strong, if she willed herself to.

“You there, Friday?” She asked as she turned around to assess the room.

“Of course, Miss Summer,” came the faithful reply.

“Is this an armoury?” Summer asked, looking around, taking a step towards the wall.

“No,” Friday replied. “It’s a safe room. Mr Stark built it in case of  an attack when civilians are around. It’s extremely safe, don’t worry. Walls reinforced with steel.”

Summer crinkled her nose. Friday had obviously meant it to comfort Summer, but she didn’t exactly bode well with enclosed spaces. It was like a cage. She shook her head. Fine. She was a flightless bird anyway, and it wasn’t even like she had anywhere to escape to.

It wasn’t even like she _wanted_ to have anywhere to escape to.

Everything she needed was here.

That was somehow comforting. Although, as a perfectly timed explosion reminded, _here_ was currently being blown up.

She smiled softly, feeling kind of idiotically happy. Well, they did say home is where the heart is…

“But these guns,” Summer mused as she reached up to touch the muzzle of a M-16.

“Some of Mr. Stark’s house guests happen to be trained soldiers or weapon users.” Friday explained. As Summer traced a finger over the length of the rifle, momentarily grazing past the trigger, Friday made an undignified sound. “I would not recommend tampering with them, Miss Summer, seeing that they are all loaded with bullets.”

“Are they?” Summer said as she plucked the gun off the wall, smirking. She raised the scope to her eye.

“Please, Miss Summer, guns are not toys, as fascinating as they may seem—”

“Friday,” Summer interrupted as she examined the gun. “There is a place. Tommy’s Shooting Range down in Brooklyn. Not very original, I know. Uh… 2012, was it? Winter time. Might be in—”

“I found it… I found _you_.” Friday said. “I see. Have you had weapons training before?”

“I picked up a hobby,” Summer confessed. “I worked for Tommy for six months. He didn’t care whether I had qualifications or not, just that I knew my way around a gun.” At the questioning silence, she gave an explanation. “Bronx streets were very dangerous, especially for thirteen-year-old girls walking home from school at 8 o’ clock.”

“Where did you find one?”

“That’s—” Summer began to evade but sighed. They deserved to know the truth, even if ‘they’ was an artificial intelligence. “Black market. They used me sometimes to get into places. You know, pretend we were a family and shit. I’d beam like an idiot,” She snorted, “They paid me in exchange, and then I used the money to buy a gun. I started small, with a Pico. Upgraded from there.

“Tommy let me use his guns in the winter, when no one came. But then he died. I was afraid the police were going to ask questions and find out I had no identification. So I ran. Got to the city.” Summer murmured. “I’ve never used an M-16 before though. Or any other rifles actually.”

“Then, despite your apparent experience and talent with firearms, I would suggest you not to, Miss Summer.” Friday said warily. Summer shook her head with a small chuckle. She might be playful, a little rash maybe, but she wasn’t a reckless idiot. Well, not entirely, that is, and also not unarguably.

She placed the gun back in its place, and if artificial intelligences could sigh in relief, Friday certainly was doing so.  She grabbed the Glock 43 next, testing its weight. “Extended magazines?” She stated more so than asked.

But Friday still responded with a confirmation. “Yes,” She said in a careful tone, as if to not to give Summer any ideas.

Summer sighed, exasperated. “Friday, come on. You can trust me with one of these. You saw the clip.” Summer assured. “And it’s not like I’ll use it. Unless someone comes through that door,” She paused. “And isn’t anyone I know.” She frowned. Were there any more Avengers she hadn’t met? “Or isn’t shooting at me.” She decided.

A long pause. And then, begrudgingly, “Okay.”

Summer beamed and then slid down against the wall, crossing her legs, fingers clasped around the Glock. It was cold in her hands. The safety was flicked on, and Summer hoped it stayed that way.

After all, God knows her collected front was nothing if not a pretence. Most things that Summer was willing to put out was.

A loud blast reverberated. She was hoping that if Friday bought it, so would Hydra, whoever they were. And maybe, just maybe, she would start to believe it too.

\--

The explosions were growing louder and louder, and so was the blood that was pounding in Summer’s ears. She tried not to jolt at every single _boom_ that seemed to rattle the room.

“Friday, are they still fighting?”

“Yes,” Even Friday sounded panicked. Great. “SHIELD is sending reinforcements, but they are not stopping until mission complete. Currently we’re not sure what that means.”

Summer let out a deep breath at the next explosion. Oh my God, they were closing in. Death by explosions. She’d always imagine it would be because she got caught up with the wrong people again.

Well, essentially, it was true. Wrong, because they were right, and Summer wasn’t.

Each explosion sounded like a taunt--like slow, certain footsteps sneaking up on her. The next one was so near that it almost felt like an earthquake.

“Are you really sure this door is safe, Friday?” Summer asked, squeezing her eyes. Her fingers trembled around her pistol as it shook with another loud explosion. Hesitantly, Summer flicked off the safety.

“Yes, I’m—”

Before Friday could finish, a loud eruption sounded, so loud that when Summer screamed, she couldn’t hear it at all. She closed her eyes, covering her face as stones and dust fell over her. Summer’s breathing was ragged and another scream tore through her as she felt something heavy fall on her leg. “Fuck!” She groaned.  

The wreckage rained over her as she clenched her teeth at the blinding soar of pain shooting up her lower body. She couldn’t feel her legs anymore. They were there, they were still attached, and they were _bleeding_ , but Summer couldn’t _feel_ it.

“H-Help,” She managed to form a coherent word. “Someone… Friday, help…”

She choked. She wasn’t going to…

 _Bucky_.

Bucky, should he have meant every word…

He’d have no one to come back to.

A bitter sob wrecked through her. She shut her eyes, feeling a tear drop on her cheek before she felt someone grab her arm. Her eyes flashed open within a nanosecond.

“Found the girl,” The voice. It wasn’t Bucky’s. His grip, hard and condemning, wasn’t Bucky’s. And those eyes. Cold, brutal, dead.

Not Bucky’s. Never Bucky’s.

It took a second to compose her thoughts, but when she did, she reached out her right arm immediately, and pressed hard on the trigger. The loud bang resonated as the man let out a wheeze and fell to the ground. Summer let out a shaky gasp. Somewhere in her she prayed that he didn’t have a family. She wished there wasn’t dinner waiting on a warm table for him at home, that there weren’t any children screaming for dada, or a wife, fuck, a good, unknowing wife, running a bath for her husband and then receiving a call, dropping her phone, eyes wide, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.

This wasn’t the first time she’d killed someone, but she God damned wished it was the last.

Summer shakily stretched her hand forward and brushed it across his face, shutting his eyes, swallowing as the red smeared against her hands.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.

Bucky would want her to be strong. 

Setting her anxiety aside, she tried her best to free herself. She tried to wiggle her leg, but the motion set a flaring pain up her body and she bit down on her lip so hard it started to bleed.

“Oh, God,” She hissed. “Bucky,” She whispered the soft plea without even thinking. She swallowed.

The next man came, but before she could raise her shaky arm, he had ripped the gun away from her. She let out a shout and pulled against him. “Let go!” Summer hissed. “Help! Friday?”

“Don’t bother, little girl,” He said in a gruff voice. “The system’s been disabled.”

Summer wanted to retch at the name. _Little girl_.

Another man soon joined while Summer’s mind kept spinning to think of a plan, but it was hard when it was starting to spin out of dizziness. The other man lifted up the debris and Summer’s immediate action was to kick him, but instead she let out a breathless sound. The pain was so sharp it left her vision blurring. Her left leg that had been receiving most of the weight of the piece of stone was bleeding itself dry. It was twisted at an odd angle, and looked completely broken, like it had become a separate piece of her body.  

“Bucky!” She finally shouted in desperation as the men dragged her away. “Bucky, help! Bucky!” Summer sobbed. “Bucky!”

“He’s not coming, so shut up.” One of the men, she wasn’t sure who anymore, said. “He’s not going to come for you.”

Summer fell limp in their arms, pliant. She almost believed them, because _why would he?_

_No. He promised._

Bucky would never go against his words. Summer did not have much, perhaps not at all in this material world, but she had _hope_. And she hoped that that would save her.

Fuck, she was so scared to die.

Summer was thrown carelessly onto the ground and she skirted against the hard floor, letting out a hard wheeze.  She whited out for a second, choking on her breath as pain shot up her left leg. She looked at it, paralysed with fear. The jeans she sported were torn and matted with thick, dark red blood, and her leg was limp and contorted. The sight was so disgusting she tore her eye away from it, feeling bile rise up her throat.

“Medic,” One of the two men shouted. “She’s losing too much blood. Bring a drip.” Summer snapped her head up to him. 

“Why are you saving me?”

He didn’t answer. Then a footstep sounded and Summer turned her head. Her heart stopped, recognizing him. It was the doctor from before, in the forest. Pasty white skin, a pair of glasses perched on his nose sitting in front of his blue eyes. Summer reflexively recoiled at the sight of him.

“Dr. Petrov,” The two agents saluted.

The doctor waved his hand, dismissing them.

“You ask why we save your life?” He asked. A dark, twisted smirk rose on his face. “Why sweetheart,” He knelt down and pressed against Summer’s torn leg and she let out a broken cry.

“So that we can kill you all over again, of course.”

_\---_

Summer gasped awake upon feeling a hard sting on her cheeks. She gagged, coughing out, eyes narrowing at the blinding stream of light coming from one side of her face.

“No signs of a concussion,” Someone tsked beside her. She tried to turn her head only to realize she was cuffed to a table, from her ankles up to her neck. Her breathing stuttered. _What. The._ _Fuck_.

Her breathing immediately grew rapid as the light diminished with a loud click. Her chest felt restricted and her mouth was agape, breath coming out in panic-stricken, aborted little rasps. “Which means you should remember… everything?”

She could only eye the doctor, but she did her best to glare at him. He held up a clipboard, eyes tinged with mirth and amusement. Rage (and fear) boiled hotter in Summer’s body.  

“Mm. I take that as yes,” He drawled. “As you can see,” He tapped his pen on her leg and she swallowed at the emptiness there. “We took very, very intensive care of your pretty leg. We want you at your optimum. You’re very precious.” He stated. Summer responded with silence. “You should at least have the courtesy to say thank you.”

 _Fuck you,_ she just thought.

The doctor’s smile fell and he let out a hiss, grabbing her by her jaw, clamping down hard. Summer let out a strained cough. “I said,” He said in a low voice. “Say thank you.”

Defiant as she was, it _hurt_. “Thank you,” She croaked out, feeling her throat move against the restraint. The doctor released her, head knocked back against the hard table, already starting to feel a bruise on her neck.

“You’re welcome, darling,” Dr. Petrov purred.

He peeled off his gloves, the latex making a screech. A ghost of a smug smile suggested he’d done it on purpose. “We believe you’re very, very special, you know?”

“Well, you’ve got the wrong girl.”

Triumphant that she’d spoken, the doctor smiled. “I don’t think so,” He sat down on a stool. “But of course, despite the obvious proof, we have to be certain. Precise,” The doctor waved his hand. “Perfect.” The word sounded sinister on his tongue. Summer closed her eyes as she tried to move her wrists. The metal scraped against her.

_Where are you Bucky?_

“Obviously we would no longer need a blood sample.” He went on. “Got them from those SHIELD doctors. We’ll be conducting experiments on your brainwaves. We also wanted to test your reaction to… some stimuli.” Summer didn’t know how to react to his malicious tone. “But, well, I’m boring you. Let’s talk about something else.”

The doctor set his clipboard by a small desk and returned.

“Do you want to know what it is that makes you special, Summer?” He asked curiously. “Of course you do. After all, it does have something to do with those… parents of yours.”

Summer’s eyes flashed towards him, mouth drying. His words, despite Summer’s better judgement, had struck a chord in her, and she felt like someone had just stepped on her lungs, spindle fingers wrapped around her throat in a vice grip. “What parents?” She spat. “I have none.”

“Oh, but you do,” The doctor looked pleased at her aggressiveness. “We were good friends, you know. We worked very closely. After all, I was your mother’s gynaecologist,” At this, he frowned. “Well, for the first two trimesters, at least. During the last…” His eyes glinted with something Summer didn’t recognize. _Did not want to recognize_. “She fled.”

Summer swallowed. No. He was lying. No way Summer was so affiliated with Hydra, no way her parents were from them…

Her mouth dried. If Bucky found out… If the Avengers…

Summer supressed a sob. They weren’t going to come save her.

“Your father and mother, they created something very dangerous. It was meant to be given to us. To Hydra,” The doctor continued. “Yet, it was given to you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Summer’s voice sounded defeated. “They gave me nothing.”

 _Nothing but misery, that is_.

“But they did, Summer.” The doctor sighed, exasperated. “Tell me, were you a sick child growing up?” At the deafening silence, the doctor grinned. “You had a couple more mental illnesses.”

“Side effect of having no parents.” She quipped.

“Ah. Yes, I am very, very sorry for that,” Dr. Petrov said. “I’m quite certain their plan was to come back for you one day, once they’ve eliminated… the threat, which was me. Unfortunately, they were too dead to do that.”

Summer felt her heart sink. “You killed them?”

As much as Summer hated her parents, hated them for leaving her, she had always had a fantasy of seeing them one day, of maybe reuniting. They would apologize, give a reason, and cry and kiss her and she’d finally have a home, a family, she’d have _love_ …

“Don’t sound surprised, they went against us. If it makes you feel better, I wasn’t the one who killed them, although I was present at the shooting. Don’t worry. It was painless. As painless as death can be.”

Summer couldn’t breathe, and there was no one to guide her this time.

Summer closed her eyes and willed herself to breathe. She needed to stay alive. For her parents, who died trying to protect her.

But she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. Dr. Petrov was either a good liar, or he wasn’t one at all.

“They stole what rightfully belonged to us and gave it to,” Dr. Petrov wrinkled his nose. “Well, they gave it to _you_.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I told them many times. The serum is like a living being of its own. It thinks. It’s almost like a virus, and it needs a perfect host to reside in. And you…” Dr. Petrov sighed. “Nothing wrong with you. Physically I have made sure you were absolutely _perfect_. Except that the virus is… say, recessive. Given to someone who is dominant, rebellious, I suppose, they would never show. It’s a waste.”

Dr. Petrov sat down. “On the bright side, you were always supposed to be the baby who received the serum. Difference is, you would’ve grown up here, in Hydra. You would have been taught submission and surrender. To the virus, to _us_.” He sighed, almost apologetic. “It’s a little too late to do that, though. You’ve already grown up. You have a conscience. A will. Someone you would answer to that isn’t us…” Summer glared at him and he smiled, all teeth and malice. So he knew. “And if we ever want to change your mind,” Dr. Petrov shook his head. “Difficult. To do that, we would require an incredibly… immoral method. We’d have to break you down. Start over.”

Dr. Petrov stood up, the chair dragging noisily backwards. He reached down to the bottom of the table and pushed. “But thankfully,” He flashed a dark grin. “We’ve never exactly been known for our _morals_ anyway.” He leaned close to Summer’s ears. “Because where’s the fun in that?”

Summer suddenly felt the chains enclosing around her, and she knew it wasn’t fear talking. She let out a bloodcurdling bellow as the one around her wrists tightened painfully, tearing her skin and crumbling her bones.

“Don’t be so dramatic. We won’t kill you,” Dr. Petrov said as he pushed a hand on the panel next to the door. It hissed open, showing nothing but an empty hallway that stretched on forever. The thought was dizzying. “But I can’t and won’t promise that we wouldn’t tip you a little off the edge.” He walked off without looking back. “For that, darling, is how you break a person who’s used to breaking.”

\---

_Day 2_

Summer convulsed violently against the table, gargling nonsensical and gruesome noises, each a sound she never knew she could make, only thought was possible in films. Fiery pain licked at every inch of her skin, and she screamed bloodily, kicking her legs and trashing her arms. Her head rolled from one side to the other and another volt of electricity shot up through her spine. She bawled, rapidly knocking her head back against the table, wishing for it to _just stop, please, just stop!_

 _Fuck me,_ She thought as she curled her toes painfully, howling out in agonizing pain. A sob wrecked through her. Everything hurt. Everything hurt so much, and it was impossible at this point not to beg and kneel for death.

When everything stopped, and her spasms reduced to shivering limbs, trembling lungs, and a numbed brain, she could see one thing.

Blue-grey eyes. Gentle cerulean and smoky silver, like sunlight seeping through a greying sky, or a storm brewing across the Atlantic. She focused on them, mesmerized. The pain faded into phantom warmth as she melted into those eyes.

_I, James Buchanan Barnes, promise I will come back to you, Summer No-Last-Name._

A smile came over her face and she breathed in deeply, a careful peace washing over her.

But then the pain started again.

\---

“You know,” She wasn’t even sure how she managed to speak, even if her words were garbled. “They’ll come for me.” She jolted convulsively against the table, tremors running through her like a second pulse. “ _He… Bucky_ , he’ll come for me.” She sounded so certain, so brave, because Bucky promised.

 _He promised_.

The guard just gave a twisted look and shoved the spoon into her mouth, mocking and amused. He was certain that Bucky wouldn’t come. Summer gave a lazy smile as the watery food dribbled down her open mouth. That only strengthened Summer’s resolve. She was ready to prove him wrong.

_\---_

  _Day 3_

“Bucky’s coming,” She gargled out again and spat in the guard’s face. He drew back at that. “He’s coming.” She said, smirking at him despite the dried blood around her lips, staining her cheeks. She felt insane, hysteric, but the feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. She embraced it, actually. Less pain this way, she learned. “Are you ready?”   

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night, little girl,” The guard just growled down at her. “But I’ve got something better that’ll help you sleep...”

Before Summer could see it, a hard punch on her head had knocked her out, but the joke’s on him.

Summer couldn’t wait for the darkness to consume her.

\---

_Day 4_

“Hello.” Dr. Petrov was back. He wore a sorry look on his face. “I apologize for the guard’s actions. He wasn’t supposed to punch you.” He touched Summer’s face and she hissed in pain. “You weren’t supposed to have the liberty of unconsciousness.”

“They’re coming, you know.” Summer croaked.

Dr. Petrov knew what she was talking about. “And you’re certain because?” He laughed mockingly. “You think they care about you? A scum? A homeless?”

Summer gulped as he trailed a finger over her collarbone. “Do they know?”

Summer grunted loudly as the doctor pressed harder on the bone.

“Do they know all about _Summer Valentine_?” His voice dropped into a low, taunting murmur. Summer closed her eyes. “Do they know how you danced, grinded against those strange men, offering your body in exchange for 30 minutes of euphoria?”

He went on. “Remember how you would let them just _fuck_ you while you’re high, just mewling, lying there like a display rack on a bed, a mattress, the _floor_?” He curled a finger, digging into Summer’s neck. “You _loved_ it.”

Dr. Petrov laughed at the way she clenched her eyes shut, gritting her teeth, eyes watering at all those memories she had tried so fucking hard to forget but _never will_. “I wonder what they’d do if they found out,” He mused. “What would… _Bucky_ think?”

“Don’t,” Summer spilled out, eyes narrowed down at him, voice a low growl. “Don’t do that. Don’t go there.”

“Honey, I will go everywhere I can go, and you can’t stop me,” Dr. Petrov threatened, grabbing Summer by the neck. She let out a loud grunt. “You know, why do you even go after Bucky? Look at him. He’s already been through so much. Being with you… all you’ll do is hurt him, you know? He doesn’t deserve that.”

Summer shook her head. “He wants me.”

“He ever told you that?” Dr. Petrov asked. “Scratch that. He ever _showed_ you that?” He laughed manically. “How could ever want someone so dirty, so used? A body that has been casted off such a revolting number of times, and like it?”

Summer whimpered. No… He was wrong. Bucky wanted her. He kissed her. He accepted her… right?

But everything the doctor said was right.

Summer’s body was not pure, was nothing but scum. It was damaged, ruined and used so many times that she gagged and couldn’t sleep sometimes thinking about it. She was dirty. So dirty.

She shivered. Bucky couldn’t want that, could he?

She choked. No, he couldn’t. She was disgusting. She was used and damaged goods. Bucky deserved so much more than something as dirty and vile as her body. She would not let him.

“A nice girl,” the doctor said. “He deserves a nice girl. Someone not as screwed up as you, someone without such a nauseating past. He deserves someone who can help him, heal him, not throw even more piles of damage onto him. Tell me, have you even asked about his past? Tried to help him?”

Summer couldn’t answer. She was afraid of the answer.

Dr. Petrov released her throat and she fell back limply against the metal table. “But don’t worry about Bucky,” He dropped his hand and brushed Summer’s hair. “We’ll make you a better soldier. We’ll make you,” He leaned down, his breath invading against Summer’s skin. “Colder than Winter.”

\--

_Day 8_

“You still going to say it, little girl?” The guard hissed against her ear, one hand grabbing her by the chin.

“You bet,” She slurred, head lolling to one side as he let go roughly. She knew what was coming, but that didn’t stop her. “He’s coming, and he’s going to fuck you up so bad, and all I’ll do is laugh—”

She convulsed, a gargle of blood spewing out of her mouth. She calmed down, drawing out long deep breaths. A lazy smile appeared on her face. “All I’ll do,” She said softly. “All I’ll do is laugh, because no one believed me.”

_Not… even… me._

\---

_Day 9_

“Are they coming?” Petrov barked again as Summer spluttered and shuddered, trashing against the two arms around her biceps. Her fingers curled against the hand wrapped around her straining throat. Her lungs were filled with water and her eyes were wide and aching, her body paralysed as she sucked in deep breaths that resonated as wheezes, chest heaving up and down as she sobbed and gasped.

She was going to die. She was going to die, _oh my God,_ _she wished she was dead_.

“Please-please, please, just stop it, please,” Summer pleaded.  “Don’t do it again, I’ll do anything else.” Her eyes wetted with tears. “Please. I’ll be better. I’ll do _anything_.”

“Are they coming?” Petrov just enunciated harshly, pulling back Summer’s hair. The action reminded Summer of their ministrations and she sobbed again.

“I don’t,” Summer whimpered. “I don’t know. Just stop. It hurts, it hurts.”

Dr. Petrov leaned back against the chair, face cold as he waved his hand. “Again.”

“No,” Summer shook her head desperately. “No, I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I—”

The two men covered her face with the cloth. She cried, rattling against the handcuffs. They push her back down against the table, and nothing could prepare her for the water.

Pain. All she could feel was pain.

It flared up from her nostrils and her brain, as she felt like she was drowning in an ocean. Her lungs were useless, and she trashed against her restraints. But she had grown so weak. So, so weak that food slobbered out her mouth not because she was feeling particularly defiant, but because her jaw hurt too much and she didn’t have the energy to chew. She had broken her bones yesterday (yesterday? Or was the day before? Didn’t matter) when she had struggled too hard against the metal that help her captive. She was useless. She was nothing but unwilling bones and weary flesh.

She choked, hands rendering helpless as their grip around the arms pushing her down loosened.

God have mercy. She was so fucking tired. So hungry and so tired and everything just hurt so, so much.

Oxygen left her, demons manifesting behind the darkness over her eyes, torturing her, laughing and mocking at her as she drowned alive. She gave herself to the dark.

But the dark did not want her. No one did.

They dragged her back up and she choked haphazardly, crying loudly as they peeled the cloth away again.

“Are they coming?”

He had been asking the same questions for a few days know. Summer had never answered truthfully, because she was afraid that when she did, it would become too real.

But it hurt too much. Everything was either hungry, lethargic, or in pain and right now it was all. It was so overwhelmingly all, and Summer just ached for death, for the peacefulness to wash over her.

Hell was better than this. Nothingness was better than this.

So she struggled open her mouth. “N-no,” She whispered.

Dr. Petrov cocked an eyebrow. “They’re not?”

“No,” She admitted, choking from the rising bile of realization.

 _Never_.

\---

_Day 15_

Summer had dissolved, faded into sticks as bones and paper as skin. She did not remember how to feel human. She did not think that all humans felt was pain.

She didn’t even want to put up a fight as the men dragged her forwards. She wasn’t too certain why they had sent four big, muscular men to come get her, considering her frail state, but she was too tired to think much these days. Any thinking just resulted in pain. Anything, really, just resulted in pain. Pain, pain, pain. Pain in her weak heart, in her brittle ribs, in her mind that was wasting away. She was wasting away. The men were rough, their unforgiving grips leaving bruises on her arms. Pain again.

She did not remember how to feel human.

She wondered if that made her something else.

They passed through the lifeless corridor and then one of the guards opened a door, revealing a large room, with ceilings as high as a 4-storey building and a strange looking contraption sitting in the middle of the room, looming over Summer intimidatingly. It looked like a humongous oxygen tank— cylindrical and lined with tubes.

“Well, hello there, Summer,” Dr. Petrov’s accent sang. “Have you been doing well?”

Summer could barely afford to weakly glance at him from beneath her drooping eyelids.

Dr. Petrov laughed, shaking his head. “So aggressive. We’ll have to get rid of that as well.”

They pulled Summer effortlessly towards the giant tube as Dr. Petrov watched with a dark, wiry smile on his face. He pressed a button by the side of the cylinder and a loud hiss sounded. Summer looked up. The lid of the thing had opened up, releasing some white fume.

“I thought of using an oxygen mask, the standard procedures and such.” Petrov said. “But I think the edge of dying would be more familiar for you.” He grinned darkly. “And, of course, more fun for _me_.”

The guards hauled her up a flight of stairs and then pushed her until she was staring down, horrified, curious and tired at the tube. Inside was filled with a colourless liquid. Water? Her stomach churned with fear, mind blanking. “What—”

They pushed her, and Summer let out a hoarse scream. A loud splash sounded and Summer choked as she went under. She watched, wide-eyed, as the lid spun shut above her and she was left in an overwhelming darkness.

That was when she realized she could not feel. At all. Well, nothing except for her growing anxiety and pain. She tried to move her hands, desperately trying to scream for help but her movements were slow in the thick liquid.

There was nothing. Nothing but a lightless abyss, and her.

She choked as she tried to swim up, the pressure all around her making her feel like her brain and lungs were going to explode.

She was going to die. Oh God, she was going to die.

She stopped struggling.

She was going to die.

_I am going to die._

She closed her eyes, feeling a sense of tranquillity wash over her. Death. That had been her wish, for a long time. She held her hand against her heart as she drifted into nothingness.

The darkness asked for a kiss. Who was she to refuse?

\---

_Day… ???_

They assigned Summer a person that they referred to as a handler.

His name was James.

Summer recoiled instantly when he entered the room, almost tasting the threatening bile.

He had brown hair and his eyes were light blue, edging on grey. He looked just like Bucky.

He smiled, and oh, of course. He knew it. It was on purpose.

Of course, there were dissimilarities. His jaw was not as square. His body not as defined. His nose was too straight, suggesting he wasn’t exactly a fighter. And his eyes were lifeless, empty.

He was pretty. He was marble. Refined, with sharp edges, carved with precision. But cold. Cold, and empty.

Summer looked away, because it looked too much like a reflection.

“Hello,” He said as he sat down next to her. Five minutes ago, two impeding guards had stormed inside, and spat German at her frail, curled up body at the corner of the room and tossed her around roughly, somehow getting her to sit up without majorly dislocating her bones. It had been, she now knew, for this.

Summer didn’t reply. She didn’t remembering speaking for a long time. A few shouts, or wails, or sobs, maybe. But words felt more sacred. She wasn’t quite too sure how she sounded anymore. She forgot.  She forgot many things. She remembered very little. One of them was Dr. Petrov. And another was pain.

And the last, the one she held most dear, was Bucky. Couldn’t forget him if she tried. She did not know if that was a good thing or a bad. Usually, it edged towards the latter.

“I’m James,” The handler introduced himself. “And I’ve heard plenty of things about you. All very promising.”

Summer scoured up enough energy to blink.

“I wanted to show you something,” James murmured. “The other people told me it was best not to remind you of them, but I do things my way.” He set a device on the table. “ _I_ own you, after all.”

Summer looked away. James was wrong. He might own her body, but her mind was stronger than her fragile state.

At least, she thought so.

An image projected on the screen, showing a scanned picture of a front cover of newspaper. A dark, bolded headline. Script extending in two columns, left and right.

And, smack-dab in the middle, was Bucky.

Summer scrambled to sit up, eyes wide, mouth open, mind whirring. “Buck,” She murmured, reaching out a trembling hand. The other clutched at her shirt, at her thudding heart. “Bucky.”

“Yeah, doll. That’s your Bucky right there,” James lowly whispered next to her. “Beautiful, ain’t he?”

She swallowed and retracted her hand. Her eyes were trained on Bucky’s. She inhaled sharply.

But… but… He looked so…

He looked so _happy_.

He wore a brilliant beam on his face that made Summer stutter because she had never made him look like that, and never will be able to. Betrayal burned in her stomach. Yes, this was Bucky. They were the same blue-grey eyes that have been Summer’s anchor, Summer’s lifeline, since… since she was thrown into this mess. She wasn’t sure how long it had been.

Time has long become all but a dead weight.

Summer has long become nothing but dead weight.

“Happy,” Summer faltered, the word feeling thick on her mouth. “Why is he… happy?”

“Mm,” James said. “I don’t know. This picture is for a charity the Avengers is doing. But I think it’s something to do with…” He pressed a button on the remote he held. The picture faded into another. Summer’s heart clenched and unclenched. _B-But_ … _no…_

Bucky stood there, smiling, smirking actually, lips curled sexily, impossibly, at the camera. His head was tilted down, eyes shining blue and grey under the cluster of dark, long lashes. He was in a tuxedo, all black and white, biceps straining against the fabric, the white shirt underneath hugging him in all the ways Summer wished she could.

He looked healthy, like he had been sleeping and eating good.

Summer would be so grateful to have even a glimpse of Bucky, of her saviour, her lifeline, her _reason_ , and to see him doing so well… if not for the woman latched onto his arm, beaming at the camera. Her eyes are bright and blue. Her hair is blonde and curled. Her lips are subtly pursed. Her outline was composed with curves, healthy, sexy ones, not the protruding bones under the rippled skin Summer wore.

“His new girlfriend. Sophia.”

Summer’s world shattered.

Beside her, James smiled. They’ve done it. They’ve finally done it. They’ve finally broken a person who has long become used to breaking.

\---

 _Handler’s Log_  
James E. Patrick  
Day 34 of capture

_Summer has finally perfected the piece. She plays it without error now. It took roughly a week and a half. Also, today, she answers all questions accordingly. Everything is going smoothly. Progress is rapid and on par with our scheduled attack. Soon, we will be able to start the procedure._

_The Avengers still believe Summer is Hydra all along. She still recoils and her heartbeat increases 10% at the sight of the Winter Soldier. This is something to be fixed soon. We don’t intend to wipe her memory though. We found that being a key reason for the Winter Soldier’s failure even after 70 years under our control. It is better if she has a full set of her memories and emotions, including the hurt and betrayal of the Avengers (and more so the Winter Soldier; “Bucky”)._

_On another note, the infiltration is going excellently. Agent Dillinger is in the inner circles now. Her reports are undetected even by Stark’s AI, who goes over every data going in and out and circulating within the building. We are certainly impressed. She is a better agent and actress than we anticipated. Sophia sure is rocketing through our expectations._

_\---_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? So? What do you think? 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my dearest Sarah, who's birthday was on the 6th, lol. She's been a great part of my life for this last month. 
> 
> Also! Incredible thanks to the wonderful Savannah who you can find on bananasforthewin6.tumblr.com (I don't know how to link things. Doesn't seem to work for me? Tell me how guys!). She is so incredibly amazing for editing and being my first and outstanding beta! She is beyond expectations :) 
> 
> So, I'm quite proud of this chapter. I spent a lot of time in this. I had to research waterboarding. It sounds fucking scary!
> 
> So this is where everything really picks up, I guess? And who hates Sophia already? The real Sophias I've ever met in my life have been a little shitty... but I'm sure there's a lot of lovely Sophias out there. So here's this for you lot! <3
> 
> Okay. See you all later. I promise new chapter will be up soon because it's my new year's resolution to write more. Oh. Yes. Happy New Year, guys! May 2017 be an incredible one for all of you lovely people!


	12. Chapter Twelve: Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after Summer is captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is late! Enjoy :P

_Quick note because I might forget to put this into the foreword! Kind of graphic! So prep yourself for that!_

 

When Tony entered his room with a pounding headache, he had expected complete darkness, so he could peacefully be in his natural habitat, but no, the world just had to be cruel that day. He groaned at the bright light streaming from his computer, which sent a throbbing pain against his temples.

“What the hell?” he mumbled as he stumbled towards it. He was about to hit the sleep button on it when he squinted at the patiently blinking file, asking for permission to be opened.

Migraine long forgotten due to the suspicious file, Tony frowned, and sat down. He clicked on the properties. It was eerily suspicious. No subject. No sender. He scanned it. No viruses. Annoyed, he tried tracking down device that sent it. Nothing. Whoever did this was not half-assing their way through it.

He leaned back in contemplation. For a moment he toyed with the idea of calling Steve or Natasha down for backup. Maybe even try to pry Bucky away from his wallowing state. If he was anything like Tony, he would actually enjoy using the work as a coping mechanism. That thought didn’t last long though; the acrobatic trio had to be dead beat tired after fighting all those Hydra goons. Well, so was Tony, but Tony also suffered from nightmares and insomnia and an unhealthy issue with overworking himself until his body literally shut down, so there’s that.

His mouse loomed over the ‘open’ button. Should he? He should probably wait for the rest of the team to do this, right? It was an Avenger matter. That was the right thing to do.

But hey, Tony Stark was no Captain America. Eventually the curiosity won out against the already paper-thin resolve to ‘do the right thing’. And by eventually, he really just meant 5 seconds. It was almost pathetic, his sense of righteousness, or lack thereof. But that’s why he had his team, he supposed.

Tony was not perfect, but that was okay.

Taking a deep breath, he clicked open. An image popped up instantly. He tilted his head. It was a scanned copy of an actual file, and at the bottom of the page was an emblem of…

_Hydra._

Tony swallowed, suddenly feeling the hair on his neck rise. He wished he had his bracelets on. He gathered his courage and then skimmed over the page. Underneath a red stamp that marked the file CONFIDENTIAL, was underlined: _Hydra Agent #0201._

This could either be from an ally or the enemy themself. The question was, why would either of them want him to know about an agent? As a warning or as a threat?

He scrolled down slowly, going through a whole plethora of German words and creepy symbols, which he had Friday translate and explain. They were mostly just dramatic (even for Tony’s standards) paragraphs of Hydra’s mission and vision, and then the classic, _cut down one head, and two shall rise._ And then a whole rant about purifying the world, giving it true freedom, and basically Hydra’s wet dream of world domination. Tony was totally kink-shaming them.

And then he moved on to the next page.

His heart literally stopped and his mouth dried, jaw slacking open. His mouse pointer looked like it was having a seizure as Tony’s hand jerked in surprise.

“Fucker,” He breathed, feeling betrayed, as he stared fixatedly at the image of Agent #0201 at the corner of the page, all sandy haired and brown eyed.

Both. Tony realized it was both. It was both a warning, and a threat.

Oh, man. Bucky was going to have a fit. 

\---

So it wasn’t exactly a fit.

To be honest, Tony has no idea what the fuck it was.

Tony nervously tapped his feet as he gathered Steve and Nat in the kitchen the next morning. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter.  

“So,” He said, feigning his usual nonchalance as he grabbed for the stack of papers beside him. He had Friday print it all out before moving the file to an encoded pen-drive last night. Or, well, this morning. “I received something yesterday.” He threw it on the dining table. “It was a love letter from Hydra.”

Steve was the first one to reach for it. “Subject #0201? Who is that?”

“You’re going to want to flip to, uh, page one,” Tony remarked as he tiredly reached out for the freshly brewed pot of coffee. Mm, yes. The powerful drink behind every successful superhero-slash-businessman.

Steve straightened up, putting on the Captain America face, which really didn’t look less intimidating even when he was wearing the ‘ _I bat for both teams’_ shirt Tony got him.

He flipped the page and Tony gulped down his coffee, not even flinching when the liquid scalded his tongue. He anxiously watched as Steve’s face changed, morphing into a surprised, confused look.

“What?” He asked breathily, fingers tightening around the paper, forming strained creases as his eyes scanned over the lines.

“Yeah,” Tony murmured around his mug.

Natasha, who had been softly dozing off by the table but has become alert at Steve’s reaction, frowned, gave Tony a questioning look. He just looked away. No words could really explain the situation. She stalked towards Steve and looked down at the document.

“I don’t… I don’t believe it.” Steve stammered as Natasha pried it away from him easily.

“Yeah, well. There’s a lot of information backing it up.” Tony muttered. “I spent the whole night reading it.”

Natasha was silent as she took it in, flipping through the pages calmly. Tony swallowed. Silent Natasha usually resulted in violent Natasha.

“I don’t understand.” Steve continued.

“Understand what?” Barnes asked as he entered the room. Steve and Natasha snapped towards him, freezing almost uncannily.

Tony felt like disappearing.

The silence fell over them like a thick blanket. Barnes cocked an eyebrow and then prowled towards Natasha. “Give it,” He demanded sternly, hand stretched out.

Natasha lifted up her chin but wordlessly dropped the stack of papers in his hands. “I’ll be in the gym.” And she turned on her heel, and exited the kitchen.

Barnes warily looked down at the file.

The tension in the air was palpable.

Oh my God, Tony wanted to just _dash_.

“When did you get this?”

“Yesterday. They were very thoughtful, sending it straight to my computer so I don’t have to check the mailbox.”

Bucky examined the page and then thumbed it. Tony choked down more coffee as he watched the sergeant turn the piece of paper.

The air grew even thicker. Barnes blinked slowly at the piece of paper. Tony couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all; the soldier’s body was unbetraying. To be honest, Tony didn’t even know what he expected. Pelting tears? A dramatic fall onto his knees and then ugly sobbing? A rage-filled tantrum which would result in him bulldozing over everything and thrashing the entire place, challenging even the wrath of Hulk?

Apparently, it was none of those. Quite the opposite, actually.

Bucky simply sat down and spread out the papers methodically, back ramrod straight as he began reading through the papers in detail, setting aside certain pages from others expertly.

To someone else, it would look like he had never cared at all.

Tony knew a little better. It wasn’t that Bucky hadn’t cared. He had cared _too much_.

So now he was like this. Cold. Unaffected. That is, seemingly, at least. That was what Bucky had resorted to. That was what _the Winter Soldier_ had fallen back into: what he knew. Right. Tony should’ve known. He himself was a classic example of doing what he knew best when he had no idea  what else to do—overworking and being too snarky for his own good.

Steve shared a concerned look with him.

Steve licked his lips and then decidedly reached out for Bucky. The sergeant snapped his head up before he could make contact and calmly placed a hand on Steve’s outstretched arm. Tony tried not to think too much over the fact that it was his metal hand he had used.

“I’m fine, Steve.” He said in a low, stable tone. “I knew something like this was bound to happen.”

“Bucky—”

“Steve.” Bucky said in a harder voice. “Forget her. Forget everything she ever said. She was just a spy. Forget about her.”

“But,” Steve began uselessly.

“Summer… _Agent #0201_ is Hydra. Unforgivably so. You’ve read it. Her parents are intertwined with the deepest part of it and so is she.” Bucky’s grip tightened visibly around Steve’s forearm. Tony knew if he wasn’t a super soldier, it would’ve broken. Tony caught a glimpse of _something_  in Bucky’s eyes but it was gone in a flash. He dropped Steve’s hand, and then in a quieter voice, “Everything she ever said meant nothing.” And even softer, “ _She_ meant _nothing_.”

Tony’s heart ached for him.

Bucky stood up, the squeaking of the chair deafening compared to the silence. He turned promptly and left.

There were a few moments as Tony silently finished his coffee, sighing wearily at the last 24 hours before he reached for the pot again after two seconds of deliberation. He looked over at Steve. He didn’t seem to be doing any better, his blue eyes just staring blankly and blearily in front of him.

And then there was a loud crash coming from the direction of the gym which startled the two of them. They shared a look.

Ah. So rage-filled tantrum it was.

\--

Bucky’s vision blurred. His breathing sounded loud in his ears. His blood roared.

Everything hurt.

He kept on punching, purposefully not using his metal arm. He needed this pain like he needed _her_.

He needed this pain like how much he needed to _forget her_.

God, everything hurt.

Accompanying each punch and rattle was his own harsh voice in his mind. _Fucking idiot._ He punched harder with a loud grunt. _You should’ve fucking seen it coming._

He punched a little harder, breaths coming out in angry huffs. _You probably did. You just didn’t want to believe it because you’re such a fucking—_

Everything hurt.

 _How could she be real? She was only playing you. And you let her._ You _let her_.

_You are the reason why—_

Everything hurt.

He let out a growl as the the sack burst, the sand spilling out everywhere in an angry explosion. He wiped the sweat on his face, tasting the blood on his shaking fist.

He staggered backwards and fell against the floor, slipping on his own sweat and blood. How pathetic.

He only realized he was crying when Natasha appeared in front of him wiped the salty tears away with a towel. Bucky brought his head up to face the redhead.

“This is not your fault.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh and looked back down. “I know,” He replied. “But it is because of me that I… I wish I hadn’t…” He struggled.

Natasha sat down, the silence filling the words he didn’t say— could never bring himself to say. “You’ve been compromised.” She stated matter-of-factly.

Bucky looked away, ashamed he had fallen into what was just a game so easily, so deeply.

“Yes.”

Natasha sighed at this, unsurprised, because Natasha Romanov knew everything, and took his bleeding hand. “Does it hurt?” She asked, inspecting the injury.

Bucky stretched it out, the sting barely registering. Resisting pain was futile. Bucky thought he had learned to make peace with it but _apparently not_. The raw areas were already starting heal around his knuckles.

“Not there.” He answered truthfully.

In a flash, Natasha had her arms around Bucky, face pressed against his neck as her small but deadly hands rubbed over his back. “You can let go with me.” Natasha whispered. “You don’t have to be strong with me. I don’t expect you to put up a front like that with me, _Yaakov_.”

Bucky felt himself break at the affectionate nickname as he pressed his head on her shoulder. His eyes stung with the tears he’s been trying to hold back as he burrowed himself into Natasha’s shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry _,_ ” Natasha whispered against him. “You don’t deserve this.”

“I wish it was different,” Bucky cried softly. “Why couldn’t it have been different? Why did it have to be like this? Why can’t everything just be _good?_ ” He choked against her.  

Natasha answered, “Maybe it’s just the world telling you that you deserve someone better.”

“Do I?” Bucky asked to no one. “Or is the world just trying to tell me I don’t deserve _anyone_?” He let out a humourless chuckle. “Maybe I don’t fucking deserve love at all, Natalia.”

“We all deserve love,” Natasha responded after a while. “I mean…” She let out a laugh. “Look at me. I’ve done real bad things too. We both know that. But the Avengers, they’ve accepted me. Clint, he loves me. Even his children love me. And Bruce. And Steve.” Natasha leaned back and planted both her hands on Bucky’s cheeks. “And you too, James.”

And clear in her eyes, Bucky knew what she was trying to say. From one assassin to another. From one broken soul to another.

Bucky felt more tears fall against his cheeks and on Natasha’s hands. “Thank you.”

Natasha kissed his forehead tenderly. “You’re welcome, James.”

“I still…” Bucky calmed down a little, sobs dissolving into sniffles. “I’m still compromised, though.”

“I know,” Natasha stood up and stretched out a hand for him to grab.

“But I don’t want to be compromised,” He complained weakly as he took it.

“It’s not entirely bad thing.” She said and Bucky scoffed. Natasha explained. “It’s things like these, you know, that keep me reminded that I’m alive, that I’m out of that world now.”

“What, pain?”

“No, stupid.” Natasha smiled. “Love.”

\---

“Coulson,” Steve stood up, eyes wide in surprise. He had been mindlessly sketching on the couch. When he looked down at the pages, he snapped the sketchbook shut. He hadn’t realized that he had been doodling the same jaw, same cheekbones for the last hour, and every single haunting face looked like Summer. Steve had found friendship, maybe even a sense of kinship, with her. He related to her.

Steve pursed his lips as he realized that she probably knew that.

“Captain,” Phil greeted in return.

“What’s the problem?”

Phil pulled up an image on his tablet and showed it to Steve. It was an image of a blond girl. You could tell she was beautiful, even with the tear tracks on her face and the desperate look in her wide eyes. Steve winced at the look on her face. She was being tortured. “Sophia Carlson. She was declared missing 5 years ago. Recently it has been discovered that she has been a victim of Hydra. She is currently being held in a base in Zurich. We have been unable to clearly identify the exact location, but we were hoping Stark could do something about that.”

Steve looked at the girl’s details. She was only 20 when she was captured, a sophomore at an art university in Rhode Island. Family made good income, had a good background. She was a decent girl. There was no reason why Hydra would want her.

Unless that was a reason itself.

“When do we start?”

“Once Stark has found the location.” Phil said as he took the tablet. “Thank you, Captain.”

Steve simply nodded.

He couldn’t help feel like there was something that was going to go awfully wrong with this one.

\---

Tony groaned in annoyance. Why was it that this Hydra base in particular was so well-hidden? He frowned as he continued typing strings of codes at 100 words per minute.

It was when he was taking a quick break to massage his pulsing temples when Bucky walked by. “Who’s that?” Bucky suddenly asked. Tony turned around and saw him standing there, pointing at something on his screen, frozen in his tracks.

Tony turned back to his screen, at where Bucky’s index finger was pointing accusatorily at. There was a separate window open, with a grainy image of what you could barely make out as a man and a woman, both in white coats and lab goggles, standing in front of a board of scribbled German.

“Oh. Those are Summer’s parents.” Tony said. “I found it in the file, thought I could use it to track down—”

“I knew them.”                

Tony’s eyebrows raised in surprise as Bucky stepped over to his side. “Zurich. 1987.” His said almost breathlessly. He nudged Tony aside as he typed something. “I was…” He trailed off. “I was there.”

Tony knew better than to ask.

“Here,” Bucky said as an image of an old, rundown factory was pulled up. “Underground, there’s a basement and then a trap door leading to a nuclear bunker.”

Tony noted the address. “How do you know?”

They both knew it was a different question Tony was asking here. _How do you remember_ , was what he meant. Barnes remembered very few memories from his days in Hydra, what with the regularity of the brainwashes and the brain’s own selective way of blocking painful memories. He usually just remembered the pain, and the people he—

Tony’s eyes widened and he wished he could retract his words.

Bucky’s eyes were a stormy grey when they looked up.

“I remember all of them.”

\---

 The Winter Soldier was an assassin. He was a brutal murderer, who could commit homicide without blinking an eye or feeling anything at all. He was a cold-blooded killer who will massacre his way through a battle if he had to. And he has.

The Winter Soldier was many things.

But above all, the Winter Soldier was a ghost.

His breathing evened out to the same frequency and amplitude of the white noise in the underground bunker, his footsteps soundless against the cement floor. His world was viewed through the scope of his Skorpion. They had given him a pair of NVGs, but the Winter Soldier manifested darkness. The idea of using them was almost laughable.

If the Winter Soldier had a home, it would be something like this: midnight black surroundings with flickering light bulbs, air filled with eerie and discordant silence, and walls lined with the murderous intent to kill.

Hm. They do say home is where the heart is.

He stuck himself like a shadow against the wall and eyed around the corner. There was a guard posted in front of a door. Before he could even lift his gun, a _totally_ inconspicuous Frisbee-like excuse of a shield came knocking down against his head and the guard crumbled down.

The soldier frowned as Steve came around the corner, followed by Iron Man. They had separated ways because the room the victim was kept in, they realized, had no obvious entrances. So they had split up into 4 groups to try the 4 different possible routes into the hidden room.

And this? This was definitely not Steve and Tony’s route.

So that was why they had insisted to be paired together.

The Winter Soldier glanced behind him, and followed after the two.

He soon got close enough to pick up on their soft, hissy murmurs.

“Seems like they have a whole barricade of firewalls… Jesus Christ, how?” Tony whisper-shouted. “Steve, they’ve got a copy of _my_ firewalls! That’s why I couldn’t get in.”

“That’s great, Tony, Hydra totally appreciates your contribution. Now get on with it.”

The soldier’s frown deepened as he heard rapid typing and then a soft “got it!”

“Wait,” Tony said. “That… that can’t be true…”

“What, what is it?” Steve asked.

A sharp inhale was given in response. “ _Here._ She’s here.” Tony said. “Steve. _Summer’s here_.”

\---

Bucky was fuming as he stormed through the hallways. How dare they? Were they so stupid as to want to _save Summer?_ Were they blind? Summer was _Hydra_. She was not another Winter Soldier, she wasn’t incapable of thinking for herself. She was Hydra by choice.

He growled beneath his breath as he rounded a corner. Tony had done something to disable the cameras and put in old footage, so he wasn’t worried about staying hidden. Not that he should ever worry about being watched.

It’s whoever watching who should be scared.

Bucky tried a doorknob, which was locked. He took a step back, metal arm whirring in preparation. He reached forwards and pulled the whole door off its hinges.

He entered the room in a stride and shot three bullets.

He did not bother checking if he’d made the kills.

He ran his metal hand over the walls, eyebrows knitted in concentration as he searched for the weak spot. He found it soon enough, and knocked on it, hearing the differences in the sound just to make sure. He punched through it easily and kicked until there was a hole big enough for his body to slide through.

It was dark inside, but he could still see enough. Just in case, though, he pulled on his NVGs and his vision flickered into greenness.

He steadied his breaths and started walking carefully into the room. The air smelled like ammonia, like urine that’s been left too long without being cleaned up. He walked for about another minute, looking around to make sure he wasn’t missing anything until he heard the rattling of chains.

He headed right towards it.

A limp figure came into view. Long hair and frail bones. He stepped forwards.

The person looked up, and Bucky recognized her from the photos. He dashed towards her and knelt down.

“Sophia?” he whispered. “Sophia, can you hear me?”

“Who are you?” She croaked.

“I’m here to save you, Sophia. My name is James, you can call me that. Can you tell me if anyone is monitoring you or do they regularly check up on you?”

“Not since,” Sophia trailed off in her throaty voice. “I don’t… I lost track. Time is… They’ve left me here for days now, with only a loaf of stale bread.”

Bucky’s heart twinged in sympathy. He knew how that felt all too well.

“Do you have any injuries that require medical attention?”

“Not that I know of,” Sophia mumbled. “I’ve grown used to hurting…”

Bucky removed the shackles by tugging on them and then brought his arms around the girl’s body. The motion and contact felt so familiar it burned. “Can I carry you?”

“Y-yes.”

He lifted her up. Bucky was surprised she wasn’t too worryingly light, not like—

 _Stop._  

“Tell me if anything hurts okay? Does this hurt?” Bucky said as he started walking back to the exit.

“Mm, no.” Sophia said tiredly. “James. Nice name. I… I had a friend called James too. Back in California. We would… we would visit the beach and eat popsicles and drink lemonade. His favourite was the lychee and mine was honeydew. The skies would turn orange and pink and we’d watch the sunset and the moon rise every day in the summer. Sometimes that meant staying until 9 PM. It was… nice. I miss nice. I miss… I miss many things. I miss,” Sophia’s voice broke. “I miss life. I miss innocence.”

Bucky’s eyes watered a little.

_So do I, Sophia. So do I._

\---

“Who’s that?” Sophia exclaimed in a fearful voice as she suddenly latched onto Bucky. Her eyes were blown wide with terror. “Why… why do you have a picture of her?”

Bucky looked towards the source of what had caused her to start trembling, which was Tony’s computer. It was a picture of—

Her. Bucky suppressed a growl and instead just narrowed his eyes at Tony. “What she asked.” He stated in a low snarl. “Why do you have a picture of Agent #0201?”

At this, Sophia shivered. Bucky looked down, concerned. Tony, however, just stared at her in curiosity and tilted his head.

“How do you know her?” He asked.

Sophia swallowed visibly. “She… she was there, when they tortured me.” She whispered. “She watched them,” She choked out. “She watched them _violate_ me,” She sobbed. “I thought as a woman she would understand, but,” Her voice hitched and she was crying loudly again, like she had been when they helped her onto the helicopter and offered her a set of new clothes.

Bucky rubbed a hand over her back and guided her to a seat and brought a glass of water for her. He knew first hand it was important to stay hydrated when having a good bawling.

“James,” She said as she grabbed his hand before he left to fill up more water. “If you ever find her…”

“Don’t worry,” He said emotionlessly. “I will.”

He looked out the window, at the disappearing building. “I promise.”

\--

Days turn into weeks and eventually a month has come and gone.

Bucky missed her every day.

Or the idea of her, at least.

SHIELD took care of Sophia very well. She improved at a rapid rate, and by a week, she was able to eat solid food. She was very headstrong, insisting that she was okay with the intensive physical therapy they had her go through because of the torn muscle in her right leg. She was impressive like that.

Before all this, Sophia lived in California with her stepmother. She refused going back initially, so the psychologists decided it might have something to do with not being ready emotionally. But when the time came, she admitted that she was afraid of her stepmother, who was an alcoholic, and so she would rather stay in New York and start over, or at least until she got better physically and emotionally.

Naturally, the Avengers offered her a place to stay.

And naturally, Bucky offered _her_ room almost immediately.

The others said nothing, of course. How could they? Bucky needed to heal, and if this was his way of healing, so be it.

It was around a week since her stay in the tower when Bucky decided to ask her out. It wasn’t exactly surprising. Sophia was incredibly beautiful—strawberry blonde hair and bright eyes that looked intelligent, but also reflected the sorrows that came with the torture she had been through.

What was truly amazing about her, though, was how strong she was. She didn’t let her past define her, didn’t dwell on the years of gruelling torment. Instead, she was taking control of her new life, steering it in the direction of good. Bucky thought it was an inspiring trait.

Their first date went exceedingly well, and so were the ones to follow. They learned a lot about each other, more than he had ever learned about Summer. Sophia was a lovely woman. She was open about herself, and expressed all of her emotions bravely in a really attractive _take it or leave it_ way. Their interests clicked, and so did their humour. Their hands fit perfectly together, and so did their bodies.

Sophia was everything that Summer wasn’t, in the best way possible.

And so eventually, Bucky stopped missing her. How do you even miss something that was never real anyway?

\---

Wanda knocked on the door to Andrea’s room. The redhead looked up from her sprawled position on the bed. She was reading a book. She dog-eared the page and sat up. “Yes?”

“I wanted to see you.” Wanda shut the door quickly and gave a worried looked to Andrea. “There’s something wrong with the new girl. The replacement. Sophia.”

“Getting right to the point I see.” Andrea quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, well, aside from the fact that she is impossibly perfect especially for a past victim of Hydra, what else?”

Wanda warily looked around and then sat down beside her. In a hushed tone, she murmured close to the younger girl’s ear, “I can’t reach into her mind. At all.”

Andrea’s demeanour turned serious, as she straightened her stance. “Not even a bit?”

“Not at all.” Wanda repeated in a distraught voice. “I thought there was something wrong with me, but I tried it on Vis, and everything was normal.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m doing it to you, and it’s normal.”

“Stop it,” Andrea glared before seriously thinking about this for a moment before nodding her head slowly.

“So,” She trailed off with narrowed eyes. “You’re thinking that maybe _I_ can.”

Wanda just gave a feeble smile in return.

\---

“Hey,” Andrea greeted with a mouthful of milk. Sophia nearly jumped, hand on her heart, certainly not having expected to see the 14-year-old sitting at the dining table. “I don’t believe we’ve really sat down to have a conversation before so… sit down and have a conversation with me.”

Sophia nodded, letting out a small, breathy laugh as she sat down opposite of Andrea. She wiped her mouth and shoved aside her cereal bowl, folding her arms in front of her.

“So, Sophia,” She drawled out her name. “Tell me something cool about yourself.”

“Define cool,” Sophia laughed. “Uh, well, I like reading about constellations. I think they’re extremely… cool.”

“Funny.” Andrea deadpanned. “They’re actually not. They go up to 7,500 degrees Fahrenheit.” She then shrugged. “But define cool, I guess.”

Sophia let out another awkward laugh. “You sure are a smart little girl, huh.”

Andrea shrugged. “I’ve been told,” She said nonchalantly. “Why do you like stars and constellations so much?”

“Uh,” Sophia began. “Well, Andrea, I’ve been held hostage for a long time and I was kept underground for about 5 years, so I couldn’t see the sky or the stars.”

“I know,” Andrea said calmly. “So was I.”

They turned quiet after that.

“Sophia, why do you like Bucky?” Andrea made her voice sound more innocent, like she was just a curious young girl wondering about love, when in reality, she couldn’t stay far away enough from the wretched whirlwind. Andrea has seen what it’s done all too many times. Sophia seemed to buy it, though.

“Well, uh,” Sophia smiled softly. “James is really charming. He’s patient, and he’s so kind, and he’s incredibly understanding. He never pushes me, but never restrains me or babies me. He guides me by the pace I set. He helps me through my nightmares, and he treats me not like porcelain, but more like something to be cherished. He makes me very happy, happier than I have ever been, even before those 5 years.”

“That sounds really wonderful.” Andrea forced out.

Sophia chuckled and leaned over to pat Andrea. “You’ll get it one day.”

Andrea just gave a tight-lipped smile. “Hopefully,” She said instead. “Okay, I have to go now.” She hopped off her chair, turned around promptly and started leaving the room.

Andrea had asked Summer the same question. Summer had spluttered and became extremely flustered. And when she did become collected enough to reply, it was definitely more genuine than Sophia’s bullshit answer; even if it just was a defensive and bothered exclamation of, “I don’t know, I just do.”

\--

Tony and Steve were eating ice cream and watching TV when their show suddenly turned grainy and then flickered into a blue screen. Tony frowned, alarmed. “Friday, what is this?” He asked through a mouthful of cookies and cream flavoured Ben and Jerry’s.

Friday sounded startled as she spoke. “I… It seems like there had been a sudden vulnerable point in the security of the Hydra base due to… ingoing data, so…” Friday paused. “We’re through.”

Tony literally bolted towards his computer and started typing rapidly. “Okay, okay, let’s see. Agent #0201…” He murmured under his breath as Steve came to stand behind him.

“Really, Tony?” He deadpanned, but Tony was too in his zone to really come up with a witty comeback.

“I’ve got something!” He exclaimed. “It’s a video feed. More than a week old, labelled Interrogation #12, Agent #0201.” Tony said. “I wonder if that means she’s interrogating, or being interrogated. Guess we’ll just watch to find out.” He said almost excitedly. Before he clicked though, he turned to Steve for permission. “Can we?”

Steve sighed and pulled over a chair. “I guess.” He pursed his lips. 

Tony grinned and clicked on it. The video pulled up and the billionaire made an elaborate gesture, and the clip was transferred to the TV.

There was a rustling and the camera was shaky for a bit before it seemed to stabilize and was set down on a table. It showed a male, with short cropped brown hair, a five o’ clock shadow and blue-grey eyes, very much like Bucky’s. “Friday, run facial recognition.” Tony murmured.

“Yes, sir.”

The man began speaking, eyes trained on the camera. Or was it something behind it? “This is Agent James E. Patrick reporting and this is video entry… #56, interrogation #12.” The man announced. And then he turned the camera.

“Jesus— _what”_ Tony sputtered.

Steve felt like he had swallowed his whole tongue.

There on the other side of the camera was Summer. Or, at least, what was left of her.

Steve let out a shaky breath as he cringed.

If Summer used to be malnourished or skinny, she was nothing but withered bones now. Her hair was thinning and almost balding. Her cheeks were sunken in. She looked incredibly unhealthy and almost… dead. She looked dead. And the most horrid part was her eyes. Oh, God, those eyes…

There used to be emotions in those eyes of hers. They were completely gone now. Not even sorrow remained. And Steve almost choked as he realized not even _hope_ was left.

“Let’s begin, okay?” James said as he set down the camera, angled in a way that it showed Summer’s face from the bottom. There were bruises shaped in handprints on her neck, some of them purple, some of them fading, some of them black. They disappeared under her clothes. Steve felt like vomiting.

“Yes.” Summer said. Steve cringed. Her voice was crackly and broken. It looked almost painful for her to be speaking, like they weren’t giving her any water at all.

James began with a seemingly simple question. “Who are you?”

“0201.” She said. No title of ‘agent’, no name. Just a serial number, like branded cattle.

“Good,” James said. “And how do you feel right now?”

Summer opened her mouth. “Unessential.”

“Very good,” James marvelled. “Now, this is a new one. Maintenance of your body. Tell me what should be fixed.”

Summer seemed to be at a loss, eyes darting around almost fearfully. So at least she still felt something, albeit fear. Steve didn’t know how to feel about that. “Dislocated shoulder, um. Broken index and pinkie on the right hand. Fractured rib, but that’s healing. There are still sensitive areas to my… breasts, from the electro… _electrotherapy…”_

Tony started to heave, making choked sounds.

Summer continued. “I, um. My body is weak. I… I think I’m malnourished—”

“Oh, so you’re asking for more food?”

“No,” Summer said immediately. “What I feel… what I think is unessential. I’m sorry, sir. The… porridge is fine.”

Beside him Tony was gagging into a waste basket.

“That’s okay. I understand. Don’t worry. We’ll fix you soon.” James drawled in a cruel voice. “Next question. Yes or no. Are they coming for you?”

Steve’s heart pounded against his ribcage. He knew that James was referring to them.

“No.”

The speed in which she answered to felt poisonous and Steve felt a sour tang in his nose as his eyes welled up. Oh my God, Summer…

“Do they care for you?”

“No.”

“And does that bother you?”

A pause. A hitched breath. “No.”

“You hesitated.”

Steve could see it now. Summer’s eyes were tearing up too and she was filled with so much heartache and fear. “Yes.”

“Why?”

She swallowed, looking down. “I don’t know.”

“Look at me.” He grabbed her chin, pressing against her jugular and pushed her face up roughly. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” She pleaded.

“Let’s try one more time.” He hissed. “Does it bother you that they have betrayed you?”

“No,” She stammered, tears welling up in her eyes as her chest rose unevenly in short, aborted pants of air. “It doesn’t.” She sucked in a deep breath, blinked rapidly and then calmed down a little. “No.” She repeated in a softer, defeated voice. “It shouldn’t.” She closed her eyes. “ _Help me_.” She begged as her voice cracked. “It _shouldn’t._ ”

“Since you asked so nicely,” James hummed. “Good girl.” He said, and the video ended.

Steve grabbed the basket from Tony.

\---

“Sir?” Friday said a moment after Steve finished pouring out the contents of dessert into the bin. “Facial recognition has been completed. His name is indeed James E. Patrick. He is 32 years old.”

“Anything notable?” Tony croaked.

“Yes,” Friday seemed to sigh. “He is not only an agent of Hydra, but also one of SHIELD.”

\---

Tony had Friday blare the alarm for them to assemble.

“What’s going on?” Natasha was the first to arrive, already wearing mission appropriate gear. Steve immediately tackled her, pressing his wet face against her neck. She stumbled backwards slightly in surprise but pressed her hands around his back. Tony himself felt like he needed a hug but he restrained himself as he tried not to remember the naked “portfolios” of Summer and all the bruises and electrical burns that littered all over her skin. There were ones of her bent fingers and swollen knuckles and snapped wrists. And of course, there was all the notes taken down in the Handler’s Logs.

Oh, fuck. He felt bile rising up his throat again.

Bruce was the next to pad into the room, eyes wide in confusion as he saw Steve sobbing and mumbling incoherent strings of nonsensical words with his big arms limply surrounding Natasha. He said nothing though and just asked Tony if everything was okay.

Clint arrived next. He had come back a week hearing about the Hydra issue, and was still trying to catch up on everything. Then Wanda and Vision appeared.

Wanda immediately went around Steve and Natasha. “What’s wrong?” She asked in her soft lulling accent.

“Sorry I’m a little late, I had to make sure Sophia was safe…” Bucky trailed off as he caught sight of Steve. “Steve? What’s going on here?”

The alarm cut off as Tony bobbed his head towards the screen beside him. “Why don’t you take a look?”

Steve sniffled as he adjusted his stance to allow Nat to manoeuvre a little so she could face the screen.

Tony clicked selected a clip labelled ‘Video Entry #19’ and everyone’s breath seemed to hitch as the tape began to roll.

The tension in the room immediately amplified, and Tony peeked at Bucky who just turned angrily towards him. “What is this? Is this Sophia?”

Tony said nothing, just glared at him and promptly turned around. Of course, Tony could see the slight resemblance in the thinness and bony structure, and the face was hidden of course, because of the cloth pressed over it by a large, beefy man.

“That Bucky of yours, he does not care, he is not coming,” The man hissed over the crackly audio. And then he peeled off the cloth.

Wanda gasped audibly. Natasha’s gaze went steely. Clint went kind of confused, but Bruce, who looked very surprised, murmured something to him. Steve just squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through his nose.

Tony didn’t bother to look at Bucky.

Summer’s face was pale and so were her lips. Bruises went from underneath her clothes to her chin and cheeks, and wrapped all around her throat. Her eyes were hooded, but you could see the veiny redness under puffy eyelids. She leaned to her side and gagged out greenish liquid.

“He’s coming,” She croaked as she spat the remaining vomitus, her words sounded strange, maybe something to do with the fact that they had electrocuted her tongue as well. She gave her best at glaring up at the man. “ _Promised_ me.”

God, Fuck. She sounded so certain, so passionate about it. She wasn’t just saying it, she _believed_ every single word she was saying.

“Well, he’s breaking it.” He snarled.

Summer closed her eyes. “If ya think all your stupid talk is gon’  break me, you’re wrong. He’s coming fo’ me, and ya know that. You just trying to break my spirit,” She slurred, a lazy smile stretching over her lips. “Lemme tell ya; it ain’t gon’ be easy.”

“Well, I can try.” The man let out a hissy laugh and pulled the cloth over her face again, and pushed her down against the table and started pouring the water over her. Tony winced. Waterboarding was a cruel and barbaric torture method in his opinion. It was vile. There was a gagging sound and Tony nearly vomited again. During waterboarding, the victim was susceptible to expelling vomit, and then accidentally inhaling it.

Another video pulled up immediately after and Tony realized it was only posted seconds ago. The camera rustled. A few spotlights came on. And then a skeletal figure shuffled gauntly onto the stage, where a grand piano stood. She looked even more terrible than before, with a bent back and stick legs. The dress she wore hung over her like drapes.

“Have you perfected your piece, 0201?” The camera moved and it was set in front of her, angled down at her balding scalp and hands.

Summer nodded weakly. She sat on the piano, splaying her fingers over the keys.

“Begin,” James ordered.

And she began playing.

It was… beautiful. She played the classical Tchaikovsky piece marvellously, and to Tony, it sounded perfect. And she… she actually looked happy when playing.

“They’re breaking her.” Natasha stated in a soft, sorrowful way. Tony turned. Steve was still against her but she was clutching Bruce’s hand now. “The same way they broke me with ballet.” She whispered. “Look at her fingers. They’ve been intentionally broken. She is being taught that to play, to be _beautiful,_ she has to be broken first.”

She ended this piece with a flaunty finish. When she was done, her shoulders sagged and her bright eyes turned dull again. She looked fearfully behind the camera and tucked her fingers under her thighs. She seemed to think about this for a second, before pulling them out and placing them on top of her legs. She peered up, as if waiting for judgement.

“That was perfect,” James announced. “Good job”

Summer seemed to _preen_ over this, a trembling smile appearing on her face as her shoulders relaxed in relief.

“No punishments for today.” The man continued. “What do you have to say?”

“Thank you,” Summer whispered. The man hummed as Summer sat up. Her eyes flashed to the camera for a second before it faded into black. 

“It’s all our fault.” Steve snivelled as Tony turned it off. That was enough. He didn’t actually think he could stomach any more of it. “We should’ve saved her. We _could’ve_ saved her.”

There was a painful quietness that followed.

“It’s not too late.”

It was Bucky who had spoken. His voice was small and his hair had fallen in front of his eyes. “We can still save her.”

Tony looked back at the screen. When Summer’s eyes had darted towards the camera, they seemed to have been capable of nothing but fear. There was no trace of her left in there. His lips curled, as he asked wryly, “Can we?”

\--

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hope you guys enjoyed this one :) 
> 
> Happy belated Chinese New Year to those who celebrate it. I've been having a blast myself... might've put on some weight what with all the festive cookies
> 
> Hope you guys didn't bawl at this one, haha. Thanks so much for all the comments on the last chapter, you guys are so awesome! Keep it up :P <3
> 
> Just a quick reminder that Andrea is clairvoyant :P (This is for you Savannah lol, if you read this). 
> 
> I love you guys! Remember to leave me a nice encouragement as I work on the next chapter <3 :) And maybe some kudos too :D Bye!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The build up to Summer and Bucky's reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay.  
> Before anything else, I need to thank Savannah aka bananasforthewin6 for EVERYTHING! These nicely written chapters will be nothing without her! I"M SORRY this is late, but I hope you enjoy this <3
> 
>  
> 
> Also, HUGE THING, this would mean the world to me if you did this, so if you don’t feel like giving me a planet today, ignore this, but if you would, read on!
> 
> So, there’s this website called penpee.com, and writers get to earn money (VERY LITTLLE MONEY, ACTUALLY, BUT IT’S MORE THAN NOTHING, aka my bank account) by writing short stories. I have a couple of them up, and it would be so fucking amazing if any of you go there, make an account using my referral link, which would help me make a little bit of money (5 credits): http://penpee.com/?mref=126   
> My books are called: “Cassie” and “Sunshine and Dynamite” and my username is kkyclaud, and you can read them for free, but I’ll earn money. How that works is that you start off with 10 credits. Each day you log in, you earn one credit. You read a chapter by paying 3 credits. I earn 1.65 credits from you reading my chapter. 50 fucking credits only equates to 1 dollar. Leave me a review there or something or nothing at all. Or just make a fucking account. I’ll fucking kiss your feet.   
> Okay, I’m sorry. I got a little aggressive there. I’ll still kiss your feet if you want, but I’ll wash and massage them first. Because every needs a foot rub. 
> 
> So, yeah. It will mean so freaking much to me, and I’ll even give you a virtual hug. Or anything you want. But virtually.   
> I love you guys so much. Your support has made this book possible, and I get so freaking happy seeing kudos and comments from you guys. You are dah best. I love you guys as much as I love Bucky and that is a lot.   
> Check out penpee.com. Go write a book there. Tell me, and I’ll read it. If you want to know more about it, uh, check out the website, or email me. kkyclaudia@gmail.com. That’s me. You can ramble to me, confide in me, because I’m a random stranger from the interwebs that can totally be trusted. Yes. 
> 
> Okay, I’m rambling too much. Go read this chapter. Bye!

_Quick note again! Cos I always forget to put these things in the notes. So, I know Summer might seem really needy and clingy. She only met Bucky for a couple of days, and somehow, she’d become just so desperate and focused on him. Everything is about him. I wish I have the opportunity to showcase how strong she actually is, but right now, in this state of vulnerability, she would be thinking about Bucky because he had been the one who had so constantly saved her whenever she felt like that, so maybe that’s why… okay, rant over! I promise to show the more heroic side of Summer more in the future, after all this Hydra hoo-ha._

 

The strange thing is, Summer actually grew to love playing the piano. She grew to love gliding her fingers over the smooth ivory keys, to hear the beautiful melodies that would ring out. She loved the way she could, with the right tone and combinations, express joy and melancholy, love and despair. It reminded her that a person so polluted and marred could still create such beauty. It reminded her that there was such a thing called beauty left at all.

Another thing that she loved were the times she got to spend alone, even if her body was battered, bruised, and bloody. It was when she was curled up against the wall in her cell that the pain faded into a dull throb and the ringing in her ears became quiet that she could just close her eyes and pretend. She loved playing pretend. She would pretend that she was floating away in a vast, calm ocean, staring up at an evening sky, filtered with pink and orange hues and being enveloped by the warmth of the sunlight.  

Sometimes, she would pretend she was running through an open field of wildflowers and lush green grass. The wind would nip against her face playfully. She would grin so widely, and look over her shoulder, and there he would be, running after her with his beautiful smile, his eyes glinting.

For the same reasons, she loved dreaming. Sleep had become a foreign luxury, and even if she did manage to find it, it usually ended up dreamless from her exhaustion. So dreams became something precious. In her dreams, nothing hurt. In her dreams, everything was good. In her dreams, her vision would be flooded with him, with sky blue and silver grey. If she was lucky, he would be standing there with his hand outstretched, waiting for her with his big smile.

But days passed, and the things Summer loved became fewer and fewer.

Time alone started to become another form of her seemingly endless torture. The voices would grow so loud when everything else was quiet, so much so that  they would become so unbearable Summer would tear at her face and claw at her scalp until dried blood stained her fingers and broke her nails. 

She would become so unstable that she would sometimes get frustrated with a piece on the piano, and it would result in her fingers being snapped, and then she was forced to play the song again and again with limp, swollen digits.

So Summer survived on dreams alone. On Bucky alone. 

Even more time passed. Summer grew weaker each day, until it became a surprise that she was even alive at all. She wished she wasn’t. Pain and fear became constants, became everything she knew. Summer forgot how to love. Summer forgot what love even was in the first place.

Once, maybe. Perhaps once, she might’ve known love. Might’ve even felt it. Might have even experienced it. Might’ve even deserved it. 

It was a different life then.

\---

They’ve been going to the Tank more and more these days, and for longer periods of time. Summer overheard Petrov talking to James the other day. Petrov was saying that it was ‘almost time’. Time for what, she didn’t ask. She didn’t ask questions—she wasn’t supposed to question anything. Like a dog. Like a slave. Like a girl who had her heart shattered, her soul drained, and her spirit utterly destroyed. 

Summer walked past a reflective surface the other day going to the Tank. She couldn’t recognize herself at first, only realized a second later when the emaciated form on the wall mimicked her movements. She almost stopped dead in her tracks right then, if not for the hands clasped around her bruised arms, dragging her forwards.

She almost cried at the husk that she had become. She looked… _petrifying_. Her face was gaunt, and sharp, harsh juts of bones outlined her figure.  Her eyes were sunken and dark, her skin tone a sickly grey. Her lips looked like they were peeling off and she was just so…

She was just so _ugly_.

She swallowed as her thoughts went almost immediately to Bucky. How could anyone like him ever possibly love her? Someone as repulsive and hideous like that? If she ever made it out of here, that is. And by the looks of it, it was most likely never.

And then somehow, her train of thought continued on to Sophia, the girl—no, lady, _woman—_ who had replaced her—

No. Summer stopped herself, swallowing, _choking_ , on her pride. Sophia had never replaced her. There was never a spot that Summer had established in the first place. Summer had never, _ever_ had a chance with Bucky. So what if he promised? So what if he made you feel beautiful? So what? It wasn’t true. He _lied_ , probably from that pure goodness of his heart, from all that pity. He hadn’t meant a single word, had never said he _loved her—_

She forced herself to not think anymore after that and gulped down the stone that had lodged itself in her throat. Thinking only resulted in pain.

But she can’t really help it, can she? Like it or not, Bucky plagued her mind more often than she let on, haunted her more than she could ever admit. It was him, him, him, _so wonderfully, gloriously, painfully him._ Always will be.

Because, truthfully, beyond electrocution, beyond stimulated drowning and beyond all this torture, remembering Bucky and that stupid, hollow promise is what hurt the most.

But it wasn’t like forgetting was an option either.

\---

Dying, Summer learned, was actually kind of peaceful.

Summer lost count of exactly how many times she had felt like she was hanging on the brink of death. Well, not exactly hanging. Like she said, it was peaceful. It was more of a float, a mindless drift.

It wasn’t relaxing, or comforting. It was just… calm. Serene. It felt kind of resolute. Almost even _welcoming_.

She supposed it was because she didn’t _mind it_. She didn’t mind dying. Even if she wished she had a chance to see him again, before she passed.

But dying was definitely a lot simpler than living. It hurt a lot less, too.

At the verge of dying, at that dreamlike, catatonic float between waves of unconsciousness and blinks of wakefulness, Summer thought about a lot of things. She thought a lot about her life. Of growing up as an orphan, witnessing Bea die, of smoking weed and downing hard liquor by 14. She thought a lot about the stuff she could have changed. Maybe she could’ve tried to lead a better life, maybe offered to throw out the trash that night in Bea’s place. She probably could’ve said no to that person who offered her first joint.

Maybe if she had gone down that road, a thousand things may have ended up differently. Maybe she would have never seduced men just to steal a couple hundred dollar bills, never given up her body so crudely just to feel a little more euphoric. Maybe she would’ve actually gotten a degree and a good, stable job. Maybe she would’ve bought an apartment. Not big, maybe two bedrooms and a decent living room so she could have guests over. _Guests._ Jesus, imagine that. The thought was laughable. Maybe she would’ve     even found a partner, someone with similar interests, and maybe they’d even try for a freaking _baby—_

But… she would falter. She would remember that she would have never met him.

She would have never gazed into those blue-grey eyes and started her spiralling free-fall into them. She would have never touched his skin, tasted his lips, breathed his air. Never heard his voice, seen his smile. She would have never even had the very opportunity to do all that.

And maybe that was a good thing—probably a fucking great thing, because look at her now _—_ but Summer—at least this Summer, in this universe, the one that threw her life down the gutter  one too many times, but could still feel _so_ accepted around him—didn’t want better. Didn’t want anyone other than Bucky.

This was the path she chose, this was the road she took. No point thinking about the road not taken, no point in wishing she could choose again, when she knew that it would always be this, always be _him,_ over and over and over again.

If only Bucky didn’t want anyone other than her.

But if this was the only universe, the only way that Summer could have her paths crossed with Bucky, then so be it. Summer was willing to take that.

Probably already have, being where she was now. And she did not think she will ever regret it.

\---

They started feeding Summer better food. Beans, eggs, and this thick, gooey gravy Summer assumed was a processed mixture of food too gross to be showcased on the metal tray. She couldn’t really take more than a few bites though, what with having been used to the runny porridge and questionable soggy lumps of God knows what.

They made her though, going so far as to feeding— _forcing—_ ladle after ladle of the food down her throat. She vomited it all out afterwards. Unfazed, a larger tray just came in 5 minutes later.

After finally being able to hold down her food, she was hurried off into the medical room. Unlike the one with the metal table and leather straps, accompanied by dark, grinning men with cameras in hand to “note” her injuries. They poked and prodded and at the end of the day Summer just felt worse.

But this room was different. It had a professional looking doctor in blue scrubs standing beside a hospital bed, with bright lights instead of flickering light bulbs. Summer hesitantly stepped into it, stumbling as someone gave her a nasty push.

The soft, plush material of the bed had felt so alien and strange that Summer jerked during the first contact. She sank into the forgiving bed, gasping silently at how nice it was. It had been… _so long_.

God, Summer was tired.

As the doctor began applying some sort of gel onto her sternum and torso and Summer finally got around to relaxing, she started to pick up on the conversation that James and Dr. Petrov were having at the corner of the room.

“…start combat training...” It was James’ voice.

A snicker from Dr. Petrov. “If everything goes successfully, which it will,” He rushed to reassure. “She will not need any training… enhancements… maybe in the future… if she lives. Which she will, but let’s not chance anything.”

“What about weapons training?”

“She will not need weapons,” Dr. Petrov sounded slightly offended. “Everything will become a weapon… _she_ will become a weapon.”

Summer closed her eyes and didn’t listen any further. This future that they were planning, this scheme they were devising, Summer wanted nothing to do with it. But of course she knew better: she _was_ the plan, was everything that they were depending on. She didn’t know what to think of that.

So she didn’t.

When she was done being examined and repaired and she pried her eyes open, James’ eyes, the colour of the very eyes that haunted her, were staring down at her. She grounded herself on the fact that these eyes were ice cold and lifeless, unlike the bright, caring ones she knew and loved.

“I heard they started the new diet,” James stated as Summer struggled to sit up. He just watched her wince and shuffle, not bothering to help at all. She reached over to the hospital gown and slipped it on, the loose clothing drowning her already non-existent figure. “You vomited it out.” He grabbed her cheeks harshly and she resisted a wince. Showing pain was a weakness. And weakness was an invitation for more pain. A vicious cycle that Summer was so very sick of.

“Is that any way to be grateful?” James sneered.

“No,” Summer replied immediately. “I’m sorry.”

He let go roughly. “If it wasn’t for the fact that we need you in perfect condition before the procedure…” He hissed.

By now, Summer had gathered enough information to realize what the procedure was about. It was supposed to enhance Summer’s body, maybe like the way that Captain America, _Steve_ , was enhanced, and also how Bucky was enhanced.

“Would you kill for us, Summer?” James suddenly asked, questioning eyes peering down at her. “Would you obey all of our commands?”

Summer thought over this. What would happen if she didn’t? More torture, probably. “Yes,” She said reluctantly.

“Good,” James said. “And what would happen if you didn’t?”

“I get punished.”

James smirked. “Yes you do,” He grinned. “But how about this? Let’s have a compromise, okay? How about if you don’t follow our orders…” He swiped his finger over Summer’s cheeks gently, the touch feathery and threatening at the same time. “I’ll take away your memory.”

_No._

Summer’s breath caught in her throat. She smothered her rising panic. No. James couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t.

“Haven’t you wondered why we haven’t exactly taken it away?” He purred. “Mm. Because we’ve been saving that up for a special occasion: failure.”

Summer was frozen in her spot, her breaths ragged. _No._ She couldn’t forget. Forgetting was…

Forgetting was giving up. There, she admitted it. She hadn’t given up. She hadn’t given up hope, was still clinging desperately onto that last thread of it. Maybe because she was stupid, maybe because she was weak. Maybe she was just plain pathetic for still hoping that Bucky, the Avengers, they were still coming to get her, still coming to save her. Because he promised.

Because she believed.

And, maybe it was selfish, but she didn’t want to be _empty_. She didn’t want that, not when during those few days, Bucky had filled her up so much, with compassion, with love, with emotions, and even if that resulted in so much pain now…

She didn’t want to forget. No. Never. 

“No,” Summer just whispered, feeling the wetness well up in her eyes. “No.”

James looked pleased. “You’ll do anything for your memories, won’t you?” His lips were twisted up into a devilish grin against her ears. “ _Anything for him?”_

“Yes,” Summer choked. “Yes, I promise, _I promise_.”

James’ hands were unforgivingly tight around Summer’s waist, forming more bruises there. “Good.” He hissed before releasing his vice grip. “Piano lessons is in 30 minutes. Go take a shower.”

Summer just sat there, heart still hammering in her chest as he left the room, closing the door in a quiet click. The game was over.

James had her by the heart now, and there was no way he was letting go.

\---

 _Handler’s Log_  
James E. Patrick  
Day 40 of capture

_The Avengers breached into the system today when Agent Dillinger’s reports were coming in. Our security team has improved the firewalls, but with Tony Stark working against it, the efforts might be in vain._

_Extra reinforcements have been positioned by the main entrance and security has tightened. No one is to leave or enter the base until the Avengers make their attack. We need to have Agent 0201’s procedure completed by then. We think we have a week’s window, maybe less. Tomorrow we will be prepping her body to go into stasis and the procedure shall take place the day after._

_Dr. Petrov states that the procedure should take approximately 4 hours, so all of the electricity in Zurich will be down. This means that the doors will be down too, so there have been snipers stationed half a mile out in each direction with the command to shoot and kill any intruders._

_The Avengers should not be arriving as early as that, according to Agent Dillinger. She isn’t sure what they got their hands on, but she does not think it’s anything worrisome. She also mentioned that the artificial intelligence is making everything more difficult than she anticipated. She trusts that she protects her identity and succeeds in her mission._

_0201 has been putting on some weight. Diet consists of more carbohydrates and higher amount of vitamins and proteins. This diet will be continued until she sustains a suitable body. Currently, body fat is at a minimum so that is a plus as it insulates the electricity which will activate the serum. Dr. Petrov doesn’t expect her to be having much hand to hand combat, instead relying majorly on her enhancements. I don’t agree very much on this. I believe she must learn at the very least self-defence seeing that she is very precious and we have yet to recreate the serum from her blood and lymph samples. I think we will be able to come to a compromise to allow the girl some combat. The Witch from Avengers, I think that’s her downfall. That, and too many emotions. She would’ve been good if the Hydra team in Sokovia had trained her better._

_On another note, Agent Dillinger has alerted us of the danger that the Maximoff witch has been trying to invade her mind. Thankfully, after years of her telepathic training, she has successfully countered the attack._

_Nevertheless, we are on high alert. If the witch is coming and invade 0201’s mind, she’d know. We can’t let that happen. They must become each other’s enemies._

_0201 does not fear death, she fears the loss of her friends. She will believe that death by her friends’ hands would be a fate much deserved. Obviously that must not happen, so we have a plan to propose another offer._

_She will kill him._

_Or we kill everyone but her._

_The bomb was completed 2 days ago. The development team assures us it will be successful. When the bomb detonates, everyone will go down, except for 0201, since she will instead absorb the energy. If she kills him, we’ll promise to let the rest of the Avengers go and the city won’t die with the bomb._

_We’ve sent Agent Dillinger instructions to delay their attack or maybe cancel it at a stretch. If not, they must at least hate 0201, hate the very thought of her. They must want destroy her and go for the head._

_And she will defend herself. And she will win._

_\---_

“Summer.” James announced and she snapped her head up at the sound of her name. His eyes glinted. “Miss that name?”

“No,” Summer responded. It was truthful. She didn’t miss the name, couldn’t miss it, not when she still heard him say it in her dreams with that mischievous smile.

_Summer No-Last-Name._

_Don’t suppose you have a middle name either?_

James hummed. “Look,” He said as he pointed at the wall. An image of Bucky showed up and despite herself, her heart thudded, accelerating. Her eyes darted all over his face speculatively . He looked good. Healthy. Like he was getting enough sleep. Like he wasn’t mourning.

Summer’s worried heart settled.

_Good._

It was good that he was doing well. Summer preferred it that way. If Bucky didn’t miss her, didn’t still… feel what he did, even if he ever had, it would be easier. Easier for him if he kills her.

 _When_ he kills her.   

Summer had long figured out that Bucky probably hated her at this point. There was enough evidence to show that Summer was Hydra, and always was. All the time Summer spent in the tower would have been a lie. It was her birth right, after all, being part of Hydra.

If someone had to kill her, she would be grateful it would be Bucky. She would be grateful his face would be her last to see.

James leaned against the table. “Do you know why I’m showing you this?”

“No.”

“I want you to kill him.” He said simply.

Summer’s heart stuttered. “N-no, I can’t.”

“Can’t?” James murmured. “Or won’t?”

 _Can’t_. Aside from the fact that she would never, Summer seriously couldn’t. Bucky was stronger than her, more experienced than her.

 _Kill him?_ She’d sooner plunge a sword into her heart.

“I can’t kill him,” Summer said, the plea obvious in her voice. “I—Bucky… The Winter Soldier is much stronger than me.”

“Kill him,” James narrowed his eyes. “Or we will. We’ll kill all of them. You fail us, fail me… you won’t like it, Summer. We already have a bomb installed in the basement. On a single push of a button, it’ll detonate.”

Summer swallowed. “So you’ll kill me.”

James laughed. “Want to know a secret? With your enhancements… the bomb’s not going to kill you. Instead, it’ll only make you stronger.”

James laughed at her visibly panicked face, the sound cruel and grating against Summer’s ears. “It’ll kill everyone in this base, every single person except for you.”

“You can’t.”

“I will.”

Summer’s vision was blurring. “What about you and… Dr. Petrov? And all those agents?”

“We’ll be leaving right after your procedure completes, along with some higher-ups.” James smiled smugly. “The rest don’t matter.” He laughed darkly, spitting something in German. “After all, if a head is cut off, two more will take its place.”

Summer shut her eyes.

“Sleep early tonight.” James headed towards the door. “We’ll be starting the preparations tomorrow morning. You’ll be going into the Tank, and we’ll move you to the chair later.” The door barely made a click as it shut, but to Summer, it sounded like an deafening explosion.

_No._

_No._

Summer crumbled to the floor, sobbing, tears leaking out of her eyes as she hugged her frail body tightly.

They have to live. The Avengers, they were world’s hope. They could not die, Summer will not let them, especially if they were going to die because of her.

For some time, Captain America was truly Summer’s hero. But Summer never really wanted to end up like him. No. Someone like her? Amplified? She’d be a whole sack of shit and badness.

No. She had always wanted to be someone like Captain America’s right hand man, his best friend, his accomplice. She had always wanted to be like Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, the man who gave up his life for Steve.       

It was why she put off killing herself for so long. She wanted her life to be given for a cause larger than herself.

It was a dumb thought, a dumb wish, to want to give her life up for something that could change or save the world, because look at her, she was no hero. But she still wished for it to be true, still wanted to surrender her life for someone worthier.

Someone like Bucky.

And she will. She will, without a second thought, give up her life in exchange for Bucky’s.

She just wasn’t sure how.

\---

“What do you mean you’re going _back_?” Sophia asked, wide-eyed as Bucky slid the semi-auto pistol into the holster. He grabbed one more of the hunting knives, flipping it absentmindedly before wiggling it down his left boot.

“I mean exactly that, Sophia,” Bucky grunted, reloading his Skorpion. “There is some business we have to attend to there, so we’re going.”

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Sophia mused sadly and when Bucky looked up, her eyes were rimmed red, lips pursed into a pout. “I heard Wanda say something about this… Summer girl needing to be rescued.” She grabbed Bucky’s arms. “Jay. Please. She’s dangerous. Don’t trust her.”

“It’s not up for argument, Soph,” Bucky sighed as he tied his hair into a bun with an elastic band. “It’s a team mission. And I’m part of the team.”

“You don’t know what she’s done to me,” Sophia trembled as she cowered backwards, a look of fear and panic in her eyes. “You don’t know… James. Please. Whatever you’ve found on her, it’s a ploy. Please trust me. Don’t go.”

Bucky brought Sophia into an embrace, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m going to make sure she does nothing to harm you.” He rubbed her back. “Stay out of trouble. Andrea will be here. Make sure to keep her safe too.”

Sophia said nothing as Bucky pulled on his tactical vest. He pulled her in for another kiss again.

“Stay safe,” he murmured.

“She’s dangerous,” Sophia just repeated.

 _I know_.

Because even after all this while, even when his mind had moved on, his heart was still loyally hers to take, hers to claim and hers to keep. And if that wasn’t the greatest danger of them all, Bucky didn’t know what was.

\---

Sophia hurriedly pulled out her computer, cursing under her breath.

_‘They are coming. ETA in 3 hours and 30 minutes.’_

She sent the encrypted message and then proceeded to disable all the microphones and cameras in the vicinity. That fucking AI was really difficult to get around, and she had fucked up one time, just one time, and everything was blasted. She groaned, grabbing one of her so-called boyfriend’s knives before striding towards the armoury. Before she could hack into the fingerprint system, there was a tap on her back.

She turned around, a sweet smile already planted onto her face. The redhead girl was peering up at her with a poorly masked sly grin. Sophia gritted her teeth, cursing inwardly. This girl was as much a fox as the older redhead, the Widow.

“Oh hey, Soph.” She rocked on her feet. “Was looking for you.”

“Yeah?” Sophia said in feigned a dulcet tone. She gestured towards the armoury door. “I was just making sure Jay closed the armoury. In case of an intrusion, I don’t want anyone to get in there.”

“Oh, Friday does her job well. But I get it.” Andrea nodded understandingly but Sophia could see through her mask.

Just like the girl could see through hers.

It was a game of hunt between them now, and this girl had been ready for a long time.

“Say, Soph, why don’t we watch a movie together?” Andrea tilted a head innocently. “How does suspense sound?”

“Really?” Sophia drawled thoughtfully before her eyes darted back to Andrea’s green ones. “I was thinking more… horror.”

Andrea said nothing, just smiled and turned towards the cinema. Sophia narrowed her eyes, fists clenching. She didn’t realize that they had been playing for a long, long time now.

“Check,” Her taunting back seemed to say. “What’s your move?”

\---

They dressed Summer in this skin-tight getup and a rubbery cap after feeding her a comparatively lighter breakfast of oatmeal. The elastic gear made her ribs protrude and made her head look too big for her body, but she pushed the overwhelming sense of self-loathing aside. It felt a little egoistic for her to be worrying over things like when she had more issues to deal with.

Like executing her near improbable plan.

She couldn’t sleep at all last night. She didn’t even know what James could get out of her killing Bucky. Was it a test for her? Or maybe just some sick, psychopathic fulfilment for James? She didn’t know.

But what she did know was that she couldn’t let it happen.

Summer knew that Wanda had some mad skills. She had asked Friday to pull up the Avenger’s profiles once and was really particularly impressed with Scarlet Witch’s abilities, which were manifested as red hexes. The most important part of her skill set, though, was the fact that she could pull up shields using her magic hexes that could block even some massive projectiles and at certain lengths, even Iron Man’s repulsors.  

So—Summer’s plans. She was going to run directly at Wanda, utter the words, “This base is going to blow up, shield the team”, and hopefully, she’ll do just that, and then…

Summer will kill herself.

She swallowed, her footsteps faltering just the slightest. The guards growled lowly and nudged her forward.

She didn’t mind death. To die would be a blessing at this point. She guessed she just wasn’t ready for hell or whatever comes after, where she would have to pay for all her mistakes, but when will she ever? So she sighed inwardly and embraced the future.

She just hoped that she would get at least a glimpse of Bucky before all that happened.

Maybe she would never die in his arms, or gaze up at him lovingly as she sucked in her last, resolute breath, but Summer was going to take everything she could get. Just one glance, just to see those eyes one more time.

As painful as the idea sounded, Summer wasn’t actually just killing herself just because she didn’t want to live without Bucky. No. Whatever the procedure was, however way it was going to enhance Summer so magnificently that she could have the power to hurt, so far as kill, Bucky, she didn’t want it. She didn’t want herself to be turned into a weapon and then end up in Hydra’s hands. She still didn’t know all these secret organizations too well, but she knew that Hydra was bad, and the Avengers were good.

And if she had to kill herself for something, it would be for good. Maybe it was just a selfish thing, maybe she was doing it so that she could clean her conscious before she died. To wipe her slate. Right her wrongs. 

And also, maybe killing herself would be a way of apologizing to the Avengers. To Bucky.

She hoped they would forgive her. But if they didn’t… well, if Summer helped them in any way at all, even if it was just purging the world of one shitty person… she could live with that.

She could die with that.

\---

“Remember our agreement?” James asked as Summer was lowered into the Tank.

Summer nodded as she breathed through the oxygen tube.

“Good. Now, just as we have been doing. When you get out of the Tank, which will be for a longer period than usual, you won’t be feeling anything. The rest of the process is going to take about 4 hours. I would say that it won’t hurt, but…” James’ lips twitched into a smirk. “I’d be lying.” He hummed. “What’s a little bit of pain anyway, right?”

He gestured towards some other agents, who pressed down on a series of buttons. The lid of the Tank opened up and Summer was brought towards the edge of the platform. She took a deep breath. When she would resurface, she would be facing a team of superheroes that probably had her on top of their hit list. She repeated her plan in her head.

“Now. In case you’re devising some sort of plan to save those friends of yours,” James said and Summer snapped her head up. “Know that the bomb isn’t going to just kill people in the base.” Summer began to lower into the liquid. “If it blows, it’s blowing this whole city straight down to hell.”

Before Summer could process his words, she had already gone under.

\---

Natasha came up to Bucky.

“Are you okay?” She asked in Russian.

“No,” Bucky admitted.

“How do you feel?” Natasha sat down beside him.

“Deeply,” Bucky answered. “I feel deeply. About Summer, about myself. I hate myself for not going back. For not saving her.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I did,” Bucky grinded out. “I knew that I trusted her, and that should have been enough.” He looked away. “I promised her, Natasha. I promised her that I would come back for her.”

Natasha said nothing so Bucky continued, squeezing his eyes. He didn’t want to cry. “I could see that relief in her eyes, and that… awe. Like no one had ever promised that before. Like no one’s ever cared, and it’s some… some miracle that someone did.” He pressed a hand to his eyes. “And then to have all that shatter. I promised, and I broke it. I lied, Talia.”

Natasha took his hand. “You’re here now.”

“Now came a little late,” Bucky whispered.

“Yes. But you’re here now, and you’re going to fulfil that promise, James.” Natasha kissed the side of his head. He nodded quietly. Natasha patted his back and left him there to swallow himself in his thoughts.

\---

The city was engulfed in darkness.

Tony swore under his breath. “They’re starting the enhancement process. According to their plans, if that shit is even half real, the machine needs high levels of electricity, and they’re using the city’s power.”

“Like in Brooklyn,” Steve murmured.

Clint’s bow thwacked into place. “Well. Let’s go.”

They were dropped off by Bruce a mile away from the bunker. The shadows helped to hide them as they slinked past the snipers, quietly disengaging them. There were more guards patrolling the entrance of the building in the guise of civilians. Steve threw his shield, knocking them out swiftly while Clint used his tranq arrows. These days, they weren’t too keen on killing people, although sometimes it was really called for.

They climbed down the ladder into the bunker.

“Let’s see,” Tony murmured as he tinkered with the panel by a gate. “Hm. They’ve upgraded these a little. But do not fear, Tony Stark is here.”

The door clanked open. Steve kicked it open, shield at the ready.

And before them stood a whole swarm of Hydra agents.

Unfazed, they just readied their stances.

“Well, hello to you too,” Tony greeted as his repulsor beams blasted their faces in.

\---

Bucky ran directly towards the sound of pained screaming, shooting off the men standing guard at the sides.

He hoped he wasn’t too late.

He kicked open the door, gun at the ready. The whole room was empty though, except for—

Fuck.

Bucky felt his stomach churn and his throat tighten at the familiar sight.

The Winter Soldier’s programming chair. He remembered it all too well. The machineries, the straps for his arms, the head gear.

The only thing different was that here, Summer’s prostrate figure was latched right onto it.

Electricity zapped at Summer repeatedly, her body jolting as her head turned from side to side, moaning out choked sounds at random intervals. Bucky ran towards the machineries. He flicked the off button, but nothing happened.

Fuck, Summer. Bucky’s heart throbbed. She looked so… _wrong_. Her hair was thinning, showing chaffing parts of her scalp. Her face was so bony and sharp, and she was even thinner than when Bucky first found her all those months ago in the forest. His heart broke seeing her.

“Let me see,” Tony’s voice was uncharacteristically soft as he came up to Bucky, pressing down on some buttons. “I can just immediately cut off the source of electricity, but I don’t know if that might end up harming Summer. It says that the operation is 73% done.”

“Cut it off.” Bucky said, pained.

“But, it might—”

“Do it,” Bucky barked. “I’ve been in that chair, Tony, and  it doesn’t do good things to you.”

Tony shut up and nodded. “Okay, Barnes. If you say so.”

A few moments later the electricity whirred shut, the sparks still zapping momentarily before it stopped.

But Bucky knew, both from Summer’s groans and his own experience, that the pain never did.

He went immediately towards her. He gritted his teeth as he broke apart the metal straps against her arms. There was a raw patch of red on her arm where the restraints were. He scooped her into his arms carefully as she sniffled, moaning in pain.

“Summer, can you hear me?” Bucky asked in a soft voice. Tony seemed to look away to give him a little privacy. “Summer?”

Summer groaned for a moment before her eyelids opened groggily. She blinked and stared up at Bucky. “Huh?”

The pressure on his chest lessened. He let out a big breath. She was okay. Well, she was far from okay but she was _alive_. He wanted to cry, but he had to be strong for Summer.

“Am I… Am I dead?” Summer whispered in a throaty voice, glancing around her. “Can’t be dead. James is… going to kill you… all of you.”

“He can try.” Bucky said sternly, examining Summer’s face. Her eyes were red and she was shivering. He held her closer, but was careful not to hurt her. She has had enough of that. God, Bucky wanted to take care of her, apologize for everything. He didn’t expect her to forgive him, but she needed to know. “Stay awake just for a bit until we can examine you on the quinjet, okay?”

Summer still looked hazy and confused. She continued to just blink for a moment.

“Must be dreaming,” Summer finally decided. “Have to be.”

“It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m here, Summer, and I’m real. I’m really here to save you.” Bucky’s voice cracked as he put on a wobbly smile. “Like I promised.”

Summer stared up at him before laughing gently, a defeated but accepting, hollow sound. Bucky’s heart broke further. “Have… to be,” She repeated.

Tony was next to Bucky a moment later. “Hey. Autumn.” He called out. Summer glanced at him reluctantly, like she didn’t want to bring her eyes away from Bucky. “We’re getting you out of here, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Summer said, chuckling light, like she still thought it was a joke. A dream.

Because in real life, Bucky wouldn’t have come for her.

Fuck. Did she really think that about him? Well. She had every right to think that way, and it was nothing if not Bucky’s fault. Didn’t make it hurt any less, though.

Just as Bucky was about to bring Summer out of the room, one of the computers turned itself back on. Tony halted, grabbing Bucky’s arm and reflexively readying his repulsor.

“Why. Hello there, Soldier.” The face on the screen said. Bucky swallowed. It was James. “And the man of iron.”

“Iron Man. Jesus, you sound like Thor,” Tony corrected, but Bucky knew him well enough to tell he was freaked out. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing with you two. I just wanted to speak to my lovely sweetheart. Sweetheart?”

Bucky growled lowly. In his arms, Summer narrowed her eyes.

“I just wanted to remind you of our terms.” James lilted. “By the way, I started the countdown already. 5 minutes. You should be able to do it, right?”

He didn’t give time for an answer. The computer flicked back shut.

“Okay, I don’t know what the fuck that was, but I don’t like it.” Tony announced. “We’ve got to go. Come on, tin man. Let’s go round up the rest.”

They dashed back, as fast as they could with Summer in Bucky’s arms, who looked unresponsive and panicked. They regrouped at the entrance. Steve’s colossal shoulders seemed to slump in relief at the sight of Bucky.

“We have to go. Now.” Steve said. “One of the guards said that the place was going to blow. Come on.”

“No, no,” Summer groaned in Bucky’s arms. “No…  let… let go. You need to…” She choked. “Downstairs. You need to go downstairs. The bomb’s there.”

“Uh, Summer?” Tony said. “I think you don’t get it. The bomb is what we’re running away _from,_ not _to.”_

“It’s going to explode. Kill the whole city. You… need to stop it.” She dropped against Bucky’s chest and breathed. “ _I_ need to stop it.”

Natasha frowned. “If she’s right, Zurich is going to be gone when that bomb detonates.”

“Too many civilian lives. We need to disable it. Go. Now.” Steve agreed. “Tony. Follow Barnes. I sent word to Bruce, he’ll be coming around. Clint, get on the quinjet and hold them off if they make an advancement. Don’t make Bruce angry, we don’t need that now. Natasha and I are going to get rid of some of the remaining agents.”

“Roger that, Rogers.” Tony said.

Bucky wasted no time to find the elevator and went to the next floor down. When the doors slid open, Bucky coughed at the smell. It smelled like dirt and chemicals. Summer groaned in his arms, wincing.

“It smells so rotten. Like death.” She whispered. Bucky didn’t like she knew what that smelled like.

Bucky paced towards the small, cubicle device sitting in the middle of the room. Tony came next to him, kneeling down and immediately started to work. “Well, this is smaller than I expected.”

“There’s no way. That bomb is going to blow whether you like it or not. You guys have to go now. Take whatever civilians and bring them. _Go._ When you still have time.” Summer said.

“Zurich has a population of 300,000 people, Summer, that’s impossible.” Bucky said as Tony cut through some wires.

“Why the fuck isn’t that working?” Tony groaned in frustration.

“I told you. It’s not going to work.” Summer said, her voice sounding defeated. “B-Bucky.” She said like the word physically hurt her. “Please… let go.”

“You’re too slow,” Bucky argued weakly. But he knew that when the time came to run, she wouldn’t be. She kept wriggling and was going to fall if she kept doing that so Bucky just silently set her down. She limped towards the bomb.

“It’s blowing in a minute,” Tony said, giving up as he pushed himself off the ground. “We have to leave.”

“You guys go ahead.” Summer looked at it. “I… I have something to do.”

“Uh,” Tony began as Bucky grabbed for Summer.

“Summer, what do you think you’re doing?”

Summer knelt down beside Tony.

“What I have to do. The very least that I can.” She said as she lied herself down on her back against the square device.  “James. My handler.” It sounded wrong for her to say that. “He said that if it blew up, I wouldn’t be hurt.”

“It might be a trap.”

“No,” Summer shook her head. “I’m an asset to them. They’re not going to blow me up. I think I can lessen the impact of the bomb. But you guys have to go.”

“Summer, that is a hydrogen bomb you’re hugging. It’s going to fucking kill you and this whole city,” Tony said, alarmed.

Summer just gulped and seemed to take a shaky breath, and then accepted her own fate. “Please guys.” She peered down at the numbers counting down. “It’s 20 seconds now. You have to leave.”

 _Not without you,_ Bucky thought weakly as he supressed a whimper. He just _found_ her.

Tony stood up hesitantly and grabbed Bucky’s hand. “She’s right. The world needs us, Bucky. We can’t risk our lives so easily.”

Summer didn’t even flinch. She knew how much the world didn’t need her. She knew that _her_ life was worthless enough to be risked, to be thrown simply.

That hurt Bucky more than it should.

“Please,” Summer whispered. “Please, if I have to die for something, let it be for you.” A smile washed upon her face. “I’ve always wanted to be a hero. Save lives.”

_You are. You have. More than you know._

_And ever will._

Bucky felt his eyes wet.

“Summer, I—”

“No.” Summer shook her head. “Don’t say anything you wouldn’t say if I wasn’t putting my life up on the line.” She smiled, bittersweet. “It might just change my mind.”

Tony grabbed Bucky’s arm. “Barnes. We have to leave. Now.”

Bucky spared Summer one last glance as they dashed for the elevator.

Before they could reach it, the whole world rattled. Tony tumbled, even with his suit of metal, and brought Bucky down with him. Tony plastered his whole body upon Bucky, trying to shield him from the debris. Bucky let out a harsh sob. He knew he wasn’t going to die, he knew he wasn’t but—

Summer was.

Bucky cried against the cold metal shamelessly as the loud explosion settled into a ringing. Tony groaned through his earpiece as he shakily sat up. “My ears are bleeding. Jesus. Remind me why I wear a suit that’s so fucking sonorous?”

Bucky said nothing, just leaned towards where the bomb was. Where Summer was.

He lifted the rocks that had fallen upon it, telling himself that he wasn’t going to stop until he found her body.

She deserved at least a proper burial. She was worth at least that.

He lifted and lifted until—

A cough. Twice more.

His heart pounded.

“Fuck.” She groaned out. Bucky’s heart exploded. “Jesus, that hurt more than I thought.”

Bucky let out a pained laugh. He kicked aside the remaining rocks hurriedly, Tony helping quietly until he could pull Summer out.

She was alive. She was alive, and—

She was… _glowing_?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so? How’d you like it? I’d love to hear what you guys think of it, so comment and let me know! 
> 
> So, I’ll be starting university next month (so nervous!) so maybe updates will be a little slower. Who knows, maybe I’ll be fuelled by loneliness, so I’ll write more. On a more positive note, though, I actually am slightly excited for university. I’ve been home for too long. Too long. 
> 
> So, remember to check out penpee.com, because, once again, I will be so, so, so happy if you guys used the referral code ( http://penpee.com/?mref=126 ) and help me earn some money.   
> Why I need money so desperately is a) I need some income. I have nothing, b) My parents are bugging me to work, but uh, I don’t have any transport to do any work. So online working it is. My parents are also comparing me to my younger cousin who earned 500 fucking bucks for working at a day care centre. I feel invalid and useless. So have some love for me and help me. Or don’t. it’s okay if you don’t. (But I’ll love you if you do, and don’t we all need some love?)
> 
> I set up a Patreon? I’m so confused about it all, but here’s the link if you’re interested. Lol. www.patreon.com/kkyclaud  
> Also, how does paypal even work? 
> 
> Anyways, love you guys SO MUCH! Hang in there if you’re in a tough sitch, and if you need someone to talk to, I’m here! I love talking to people (online, cos I’m awkward as fuck in real life) and also I love people who take the time to read my book. And also people who love Bucky. And Steve.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bitta fluff and then some drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness, but enjoy! <3

It has been a day since the procedure and nothing has happened.

Summer has tried everything she could think of. She tried punching things. There was no super strength or anything. She couldn’t telepathically move things. She couldn’t shoot lasers out of her eyes.

She couldn’t do anything. She was practically as useless as she was before Hydra, as pathetic as she was before everything, really.

She was… disappointed, actually.

It was stupid. She didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like she desperately wanted superpowers or anything. She was fine with being normal, not that she really was. It was just that…

It was the only thing her parents had ever given her.

And maybe, maybe there was a reason they wanted her to have it. Maybe they wanted her to defeat Hydra and save the world.

Maybe they thought she was worth it.

Or maybe Summer just really selfishly wanted to have at least some sort of connection with her parents, who she’ll never get to meet.

Summer didn’t… miss them. There was nothing to miss, but two shadows and blank spaces substituting as faces. A scent, maybe, of winter coldness and a sour tang in her nose. A hand, a thumb, perfect for tiny fingers to wrap around.

And a feeling, of emptiness and loss, that Summer could still feel. Yeah. That, she did not miss at all.

She wondered what they would be like. Smart, of course. They were scientists. Were they evil? Did they believe in Hydra’s beliefs? They were part of it once. Perhaps they believed it once until they didn’t. What did they look like? Did Summer resemble them?

What did they want to name her?

The name _Summer_ was given to her by Bea. She wanted Summer to grow up happy and bright, unlike the shivering frost she was left in. She wanted Summer to be golden and filled with sunlight.

But all it did was burn everyone around her. 

Bea was a good woman. Summer saw her as a mother, but it was difficult when your mother had 20 other children and you had to share her attention. Summer didn’t exactly get along well with the other children. She was too different. She was almost mute as a child, actually. Sat in her corner while others played. She wasn’t… sad or anything. Contemplative. She always had been a wonderer. A dreamer.

Dreams are wonderful things. Dreams are like magic. Dreams make wishes come true.

That’s why they are dangerous.

They are as much of a curse as they are blessing. Nightmares, perhaps, make reality feel better.

Summer was scalded by her own wishes that never came true. She was used to the cold that left her in a cold shaking mess, nightmares replaying themselves in her head, reminding her at least she had it slightly better.

Everything she touched burned. Bea died. Any friends she had, they were bad people, or became one.

Even herself. Especially herself.

She looked down at her hands, hating them. They were ugly things. They were stained with blood and mistakes she could not undo and so much remorse and regret. She pulled up her sleeve and assessed all the scars that littered the wrists. She deserved them.

There was a knock on her door. She looked up. “Who is it?”

“Uh,” was all it took for Summer to know it was Bucky. She tugged down her sleeves. “It’s Bucky. Can I… come in?”

The door creaked open, revealing Bucky, standing in a navy sweater and dark jeans. He walked over hesitantly, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“So,” He began. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

She raised an eyebrow. He cared?

“You’ve just been looking a little… upset over the past few days.” Bucky pointed out. Summer nodded.

“I’ve just been tired,” Summer lied. “I think the whole procedure took a toll on me, and maybe my body is adjusting.”

“Right,” Bucky said and then awkwardly gestured to the door. “Do you… want me to leave? I mean, I would understand. I don’t… I didn’t mean to intrude, I was just… concerned and um, I wanted to ask.”

It was a nice change seeing Bucky flustered. Reminded Summer that she was in love with a human being and not some perfect angel. Not that Bucky wasn’t still way out of her league as a human.

“No,” Summer said. “You can stay. For a bit.”

_Or forever._

Summer suddenly wondered if she should ask Bucky. It might be a lot to ask for, but she just thought that maybe Bucky deserved to know…

And maybe she deserved the closure.

“Bucky?” She started hesitantly, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“Yes?”

“I…” She didn’t know how to say it, so she just put it plainly, in a simple way. “I miss you.”

Silence. Summer knew she screwed up. She had apologized and promised to herself she wouldn’t try to brave the barrier again. She wasn’t asking for a relationship, though, she just…

She truly missed him. She missed his skin, his warmth, his eyes, his touch and his heartbeat. Missed his presence. She knew she promised, but…

Guess neither of them were good with promises.

“Can we be friends?” Summer finally asked. “I’m not pressuring you. You can say no. You can always say no, I just… would like us to be friends.”

If nothing else.

Her psychologist recommended it when she had brought it up. Summer has been improving with making friends. Like Wanda, Andrea and Steve. Clint was a good listener too. It wasn’t a big list, but the biggest yet for Summer, and she would really love to add Bucky into the circle. Even if just as a friend.

Summer wanted Bucky to be in her life, and be part of it.

And if Bucky did not mind, Summer would really like to be part of his.

“Yes.”

Summer looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky affirmed. “I would like for us to be friends too.”

Summer couldn’t help the beam washing across her features. She extended a hand. “Shake on it?”

Bucky grabbed it, and warmth filled Summer. “To friendship.”

“To friendship,” Summer echoed.

Their hands slotted together. The warmth surrounded not just her hands and her body, but enveloped her heart. They did not fit perfectly, and she knew this, but Summer could deal with that. They did not have to be perfect. She learned that. Not her, not Bucky, and not _them_.

Nothing was perfect.

Maybe that was what made them real.

\--

A friendship with Bucky was difficult in the sense that Summer always had to restrain herself from wanting more, but in some way, it was one of the easiest things too. It was carefree and thoughtless, being with Bucky.

They made breakfast together the next morning, and there was just some sort of easy going mannerism about it. They never bumped into each other, and did corresponding jobs (Summer mixing the pancake batter and Bucky cooking them), and it was quiet but comfortable.

Comfortable. Yes, that was how the friendship was like. Summer was content with what she had. It was more than she could ask for.

A couple days after, though, she woke feeling awful, a cramp settling down at her lower abdomen as she groaned.

“Shit,” She whispered, rolling over onto her stomach as she stuffed her face into the pillow. “Oh, God. Why? Why?” She moaned tragically.

There was a loud knock and a “Summer!” and footsteps, but Summer kept her face smothered in the pillow. She felt Bucky shake her shoulder. “Hey, wake up! You wanted me to teach you how to make the cheese omelette.”

Summer grunted.

“Come on, it’s cheese,” Bucky drawled out adorably beside Summer’s ear.

“My tummy hurts,” Summer whispered, turning her head so she could see Bucky. He knelt down with a concerned frown, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Why? Is something wrong?” Bucky held a hand to her head, cold fingers making Summer shiver. “No fever. Is it food poisoning? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I just need to rest for a bit…”

“Summer, you don’t look okay,” Bucky insisted. “Do you need me to call Bruce?”

“No,” Summer swatted his hand. “No, no. Please just leave me alone. I’m okay.”

Bucky only came closer. “Summer, you don’t hafta do this alone—”

“Bucky,” Summer shouted. “I’m on my period, damn it!”

\---

“What are you supposed to do?” Bucky asked aloud.

“Don’t look at me, I haven’t had one in years,” Natasha snickered and turned back to her breakfast.

“I’m too young,” Andrea announced.

“The enhancements did something to me,” Wanda said next. “Though before, I usually just… dealt with it.”

Everyone turned to Sophia, who swallowed. “Oh, uh. Hydra gave me something that stopped it so they didn’t have to deal with it, but back then I… had hot baths.” She suggested.

“Hot baths,” Bucky said determinedly. “Got it.”

Sophia got off the chair and came to Bucky. “Do you really have to do this? She can deal with it herself. Come watch a movie with me.”

“Summer’s my friend,” Bucky gently but firmly pushed off the hand curled around his bicep. “And her uterus is bleeding out.”

Sophia sighed and turned away, stalking off. 

Bucky went on his phone and asked his artificial intelligence, Becca (Tony made AI personas for all the Avengers, his named after his sister) , tips and tricks for menstrual cramps.

“Dark chocolate is said to alleviate the pain.” Becca informed. “Also some teas such as chamomile are good. A hot pack for the stomach can be soothing. In fact, hot things always seem to help. Meditation and rubbing the lower tummy has been suggested quite a lot too. Massages are also very helpful.”

Bucky nodded. “Right. Right.” He grabbed some chocolate from the fridge and filled one of the heat packs Clint used with water . He balanced the tea mug in one hand and cautiously walked back to Summer’s room. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if Summer would be put-off by Bucky’s intentions. After all, she had been so alone for so long.

Oh God. That thought made Bucky want to take care of her even more. Jeez. She looked like she was in so much pain just now. Was it also that bed when she was out there by herself, with no one to look after her?

Bucky rushed for the door knob and fumbled with it before managing to push it open.

“Hey,” Bucky awkwardly entered. Summer hummed a response as she lied on her stomach, peering up at Bucky under her curled lashes. God, she was beautiful. How was it that she looked so… so gorgeous? It was crazy. “I brought stuff that was suggested. From the internet. Um. Chocolate.” He set the box down. “Heat pack and also some chamomile tea.”

“Thank you,” She croaked. “You didn’t have to.”

_I know. I want to._

“I’m going to run you a warm bath.” He said instead. “Is that okay?”

“Mm hmm,” Summer murmured. “A warm bath sounds amazing.”

Bucky felt a tiny prickling sense of pride. For satisfying a friend, of course.

Okay. He wasn’t going to just lie to himself.

“Buck,” Summer murmured and Bucky jostled at the soft, low way she said it. “Can you do something else for me too?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky breathed. Anything.

“You kind of need to go to the store to get me some tampons.”

\--

Bucky sat out in her room, fidgeting with his phone. Summer was in the bathroom, soaking in the bath he prepared, and he was waiting for her, in case she needed something.

The door opened afterwards and Bucky looked up and wished he didn’t.

Summer was clad in just a towel, her hair matted to her face, eyes wide, cheeks flushed from the steamy bath she took.

Oh.

“Summer,” Bucky stammered.

“Clothes,” She murmured, clutching the front of her towel. “I forgot to get them. Sorry.”

Bucky nodded and looked away to allow her some privacy as she padded towards her cupboard, footsteps soft against the carpet.

She looked much healthier than before. She was still very thin but her bones were covered with more flesh now, her skin less pale. There were still yellowish and faded bruises on her milky complexion. The procedure, whatever the hell it did, didn’t really affect her physical attributes.

But still. She was beautiful, and she really made Bucky want to protect her, wrap her up and be so gentle with her. If she allowed him to.

Bucky frowned at his lap. Did girls still like that? Sophia did, but it didn’t mean Summer would enjoy that. Summer was different from a lot of girls, too. Much more scarred. Much more traumatised. And to Bucky, so much more beautiful.

Bucky came with a large package too, and extra carry-on suitcases. Trauma, PTSD, triggers, nightmares that could end with him punching someone’s teeth off. Bucky also did not like to open up about how he felt, and he had lived for a century now. He had seen war, a lot of it, been war itself, had been Hydra’s Fist had—

_Had killed Summer’s parents._

Oh, God. Summer was going to hate Bucky if she ever found out.

Guilt nibbled at him. She would have to, one day. She deserved knowing.

But for now, he was just going to ignore it. Because, fuck, he really wanted Summer. Just for a little while longer. Bucky didn’t deserve Summer, not really. Summer needed, deserved someone who could give her stability, to could make her feel so, so beautiful and so important. Bucky didn’t know how to do that. As much of a wooer people though he was, he was never really one. Never had the chance. Grew up too fast, played the skirt-chaser too much, and then the war happened.

Summer deserved a real good person to be her partner. Someone tender, someone strong, someone who would build kingdoms and planets for her.

Bucky… all he could do was to burn worlds and universes for her.

Deep in ponder, Bucky only noticed Summer had shuffled back to the bathroom when she came in front of him. She had changed, practically drowning in a large sweater and sweatpants.

Bucky stood up. “Get on the bed,” He instructed, but in a caring manner. At least, he hoped it came off that way. Summer followed his orders obediently and Bucky’s heart sighed at that. Summer just trusted him so much, it was unbearable and it made Bucky almost want to yell and shake her for it.

As Summer sat perched on the bed, Bucky strode over. “Here,” He brought the mug of tea carefully to Summer’s lips.

He placed it aside when she drank half and gestured for Summer to lie down.

Bucky adjusted the pillow under Summer’s head and was thankful her eyes were closed, because his were sweeping all over her face. She wasn’t beautiful in that traditional sense. Her face has been fuller, less gaunt, and her cheeks were pinkish and soft. Her eyelashes weren’t long, but they were incredibly curled and full. Her nose was quite cute, more of a button nose than a sharp, tall one. She was so endearing, so captivating.

Bucky took the hot pack and placed it on her stomach. “Is that okay?” He didn’t mean to sound so husky. There was just something stuck in his throat due to the proximity.

Summer nodded before wincing. “This sucks,” She announced.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle and brushed aside some of the baby hair that was tickling her nose.

“What did you use to do? Out there?” Bucky asked.

 “Just… waited it out.” Summer murmured, eyes opened up as she gave a wistful look. “Stole tampons. Pharmacies are a little trickier, though, but the nearest place I could get them without just bleeding everywhere was the nearby pharmacy. God. Always wanted those expensive pills that could make it hurt less, but those were expensive.”

Bucky sighed softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is my first time in months. Menstruation cycle gets messed up when you’re not exactly healthy.”

Bucky ran a hand over Summer’s forehead. “It must have been very hard.”

Summer nodded, eyes fluttering shut.

“But you’re here now,” Bucky soothed.

“I’m here now,” Summer repeated and let out a deep breath. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” Bucky patted her head. “Get some rest.”

Summer made a sound of agreement and Bucky moved to turn off the lights, but she made a soft sound from the back of her throat. Bucky stopped. “Can you play with my hair?” She questioned in one short breath before a flush came over her cheeks. “Uh, it’s nice… but you don’t have to.”

“Okay,” Bucky grinned. He knelt back down by the bed and petted her head, running fingers through her strands of golden brown hair. Summer’s breathing steadied into stable rise and falls of her chest and then she let out a soft mewl of a yawn. She was so cute.

“You seem to like taking care of people,” Summer, sleep laden, murmured in a thick voice, eyes peering up at Bucky with those impossible lashes.  Her eyes drooped shut again and she snuggled into the bed, head lolling towards Bucky, hair brushing his skin.

Bucky hesitated and then gave a gentle smile, giving her hair one last pet, resisting the urge to press a kiss on her forehead. “No,” He murmured. “I like taking care of _you_.”

\---

Thankfully, it was over in just a few days.

Summer was sitting by the piano, and Steve was next to her. For someone who fought with such grace, his fingers were comparatively clumsy as they danced over the keys, playing a simple, slightly choppy melody of _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_. 

Summer laughed.

“Why don’t you do better,” Steve stuck his tongue out. Summer raised an eyebrow at the challenge and daringly started playing the first song she learned, Für Elise. 

When she was finished, Steve was looking at her in awe. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” Summer grinned, blushing happily from the compliment.

“You should write your own songs,” Steve said. “That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Summer pushed the manuscript peeking out from the back so he couldn’t see. She wanted to giggle. She had been writing something, but she wanted to keep it a secret and surprise them. She knew that Bucky’s birthday was nearing, and wanted to give it as a gift.

“Okay, well.” Steve said. “I have to go. Some sort of team meeting with the UN. Hope it doesn’t end with a passive aggressive, forcefully polite screaming match.”

“Good luck,” Summer called out before turning back to the piano. She cracked her neck. She had got some work to do.

\---

Summer finished the piece kind of breathlessly, her heart thudding in adrenaline.

There was this sensation in her chest, like… pride? She felt proud. Of herself. She felt fulfilled.

Did that make her egoistic? Well, it didn’t matter then. She was excited, elated that she had finished writing the song, the song that she was so satisfied with.

She picked up the manuscript book. On it were scribbled notes and instead of fancy words, she just wrote _louder_ and _staccato,_ and little notes along the margin so that she knew the mood she wanted to set.

She wanted to show it to someone.

She excitedly got off the chair and picked up the book. They were going to be proud of her. Right? Her steps faltered as she neared the office. What if they didn’t enjoy it and had to fake laugh through it? She shook her head. No. She wasn’t going to think like that. They were going to enjoy it. She knew it was just her own head trying to give her problems. They were her friends. They were going to be happy for her. They cared about her.

She wasn’t going to think this way. She lifted her chin bravely.

She entered the office. Steve lifted up a head to say a brief hello. Tony barely looked up. Natasha and Clint were discussing something with Bucky off at the side and Vision was staring a map.

She went to Steve first, feeling the most comfortable with the big softie.

“Hey,” She began. “I wanted to show you something.”

Steve looked up. “Oh. Um, yeah sure. Let me finish with this report and then I have to file some things and then you can show me. How about you showed it to be during dinnertime?”

Summer pouted. “But I want to show it now.”

“Summer, come on. I’m a little bit busy. I promise. Later.” Steve gave a kind but distracted smile.

Summer wanted to try again, but Tony interrupted. “Hey, Cap, look what I found.”

Tony brought something over, hastily shoving aside Summer’s manuscript book and a cup of tea. The tea fell on her book and she gasped, quickly bringing it up. She suddenly felt a rush of anger for Tony. She turned to him. He wasn’t even looking at her and neither was Steve. She calmed down. Okay. He didn’t mean to. He was unaware and it was just clumsy.

Summer looked down at the soggy page, breath hitching.

Never mind. Breathe, breathe. It was okay. The notes were intact. She could rewrite them. They were messy anyway.

She went to the trio next and sat down on the empty seat beside Bucky.

“Hi,” She added herself into their conversation.

“Hey,” Clint murmured, eyes glued to the StarkPad.

“Oh, uh, I wanted to show you guys something,” She piped up after a couple of seconds of no one acknowledging her. “I wrote a song.”

A chorus of _cool_ s sounded and Summer swallowed the thickness in her throat. “Do you want to know what it’s called?”

“Sure,” Bucky murmured. Summer shifted.

“Really?”

“That’s nice,” Clint echoed.

Summer slouched in her seat. “Okay, can you guys make some time so I can maybe show it later?”

God. Her heart was thudding so nervously and her stomach felt like it was constantly falling down in an abyss. It was taking a lot of her to gather up the courage and show them what she had worked on, even though they were her friends.

Clint finally looked up. “Okay. Okay, Summer. You can show it once we’re done, okay?”

Summer nodded, bile rising in her throat. Slowly, she stood up, leaving. Maybe there was a world crisis going on.

As she was about to leave, flipping through the pages of her book, tracing the tea stains with a shaky finger, she heard a muted murmur.

Clint was saying something. “You just have to appease them, you know. Like kids. Just make some compromise.”

“Mm.”

Summer’s heart felt like it was breaking into splinters of glass. She looked down, her fist clenching. A kid, huh? Compromise. Appease.

She clenched her teeth, supressing tears, shoving it back down into the metal box of emotions that was filling up so tightly she knew one day it was going to burst.

But not today. Not today.

Save it for a day that mattered.

But she allowed a drop of tear to mingle with the tea-stained spot on her manuscript as her finger angrily ran across the taunting words staring up at her, _Summer Sonata._

\---

Summer trekked along the familiar roads, staring up at the rooftops that used to be her own.

These were the slums of New York. This was where she belonged. Not the high rise building with the almighty A stamped right on it, which she could still see from where she stood. Here. This was where she ultimately belonged.

She found the bar easily enough. She used to be here every Wednesday, after all.

She entered and looked around. A couple of guys were playing poker, some were drinking beer ad watching the football game.

Summer hoisted herself up on the stool.

The chubby lady behind the bar looked up at her and nodded in recognition. “Hey. It’s you. Where have you been? Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

Summer let out a breath. “Been busy pretending to live a life that wasn’t mine.”

Cottie snickered. “Don’t we all?”

Summer shrugged. She looked around. “Where’s Jim?”

Cottie’s smile fell. “Oh.” Her voice had gone soft. “Jim’s gone.” She looked away. “Heart attack in the bar.” She looked back at Summer. “Bad for business.”

“Oh,” Summer breathed. Cottie had a look of remorse in her eyes and she wondered if they had fought, again, before he had passed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well,” Cottie shrugged. “That’s life.” She gestured to the line of bottles behind her. “What do you want to drink?”

Summer raised an eyebrow and fished out a credit card from the pocket of her jeans. She flashed the golden Express in her face and smirked. “The strongest you’ve got.”

\---

Summer wasn’t an alcoholic. She could’ve chosen not to drink. She could’ve chosen to put down the shot of tequila. She could, she could.

But right now, she chose not to do any of those things. She did not want to.

Instead, she was chugging the entire bottle, one hand up in the air.

 _Sorry, Tony,_ She thought as she dopily grinned at Cottie, who had just opened a tab with the credit card Summer ‘burrowed’. But she knew that Tony’s bank account probably wouldn’t even feel the wrath of her drinking skills. It wouldn’t even leave the slightest dent.

“How’s this for a fucking kid?” She hollered, throwing her head back as she cringed at the bitterness of the liquor.

She was bobbing her head to the rock music being played when a man slid up on the seat next to hers. She spared him a side glance. He was openly staring at her, beer in hand.

“What do you want?” Summer deadpanned. “I’m not up for  shop, if that’s what you’re wondering. I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“Why?” He asked. “You have a boyfriend?”

Summer rolled her eyes. “Yes, in fact, I do. And he will beat you up if you try anything.”

“So you’re saying he treat you well?”

“Yep.”

“Darling, if your boyfriend’s treating you well, you wouldn’t be out here drinking shots after shots,” The man murmured. “What happened? You can tell me what’s wrong.”

“Don’t start the bullshit. You’re trying to make me open up and be all pitiful and expect me to spread my legs,” Summer groaned. “No is no. Fuck off.”

“You’re a feisty lady.” He murmured. “And hot too. You must get a lot of attention.”

Summer was surprised at this. Hot? Attention? She looked about as hot as a sack of potatoes and got as much attention as…

Well. Apparently, she could not get any attention at all. She shifted in her seat, staring at the man curiously. What did he see in her?

She really wanted to know.

No. She really _needed_ to know.

She faked coy. “I don’t know. My boyfriend thinks I’ve become unattractive.”

“He blind, dear?” He asked. “You’re gorgeous. Your ass and legs are gorgeous in those tight jeans.”

Summer felt flattered, glancing behind her shoulder. Ass? She had no ass. She had no curves at all. She wasn’t pretty. Every time she looked into the mirror with her gaunt face and hollow cheeks she could see that. Natasha was pretty. Hot damn was she fucking gorgeous. Wanda was beautiful. Andrea was really pretty too. Andrea was going to grow up to be the best of ‘em, she knew it.

Summer? Summer was a joke compared to them.

“Your boyfriend don’t tell you that you’re pretty?” The man asked, eyebrows raised.

Other than the fact that her ‘boyfriend’ was metaphorical, “No.”              She shrugged. “Am I?”

“Uh, yeah,” The guy let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’ve got long, pretty hair and big eyes, and those eyelashes. Damn, baby. Small face, delicate body, soft looking skin. Don’t take no shit. What’s not to like?”

Summer could point out many things but decided to keep it in. Instead, she put on a flirty smile and crossed her legs. He said he was into her lashes, so she peered up through them, fluttering them. “So if I tell you I just broke up with my boyfriend…?”

The man grinned back devilishly.

\---

His lips were all over Summer’s neck, his hands travelling up her stomach. For a moment she wondered if he would be disgusted by the bony ribs there, but he didn’t complain, instead moaned.

Summer was pliant in his arms. She knew many men who preferred girls like that.

She let him do anything he wanted to do. She let him shred her shirt and unbutton her jeans as she followed his instructions to kick off her shoes. She let him…

“You like bondage, baby?” The man, Josh, he had introduced himself as, asked. “Would you do it if I ask?”

“Anything you want,” Summer murmured lowly, using one of her tricks of looking up at him innocently.

 _As long as it’s me that you want_.

The man let out a low groan. “You’re such a good little girl for me, aren’t you?” Josh whispered, finger caressing his face.

And Summer blanked, body freezing.

_Little girl…_

Her breath hitched, nightmarish memories flooding over her like a tidal wave.

Her psychologist said words and thoughts like these were triggers to her PTSD. She didn’t really get what it meant until now, now that she had felt it.

“Stop,” She whispered. “Josh, stop. Please.”

The man backed away slightly. “Stop?”

“Stop.” She repeated breathily. “I would like to stop.”

He hadn’t moved away yet, hands still planted firmly on her body. At least he wasn’t continuing. “Are you sure—”

“I said, stop!” Summer shouted, and pushed him.

She expected him to stumble, for him to stagger backwards, or at the very least give her some breathing room.

But no. No. Instead, he flew about six feet away, yelping as he soared, and a burst of redness had surrounded her hand when she had pushed him. He thudded on the ground, head lolling. She gasped and then swallowed. Was he dead? She neared him and pressed a finger to his nose. No. Unconscious.

Whatever. Summer couldn’t—didn’t want to—think about this anymore.  She reached for her shirt only to realize it was torn. She bit her lip. She was reckless and dumb but she wasn’t going to walk through the streets at night with the shredded shirt. She grabbed the man’s button down and shrugged it on and pulled up her jeans. She quickly left the motel and breathed out.

She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, self-loathe and a disgusting sense of worthlessness and dirty cheapness settling itself into her stomach.

She realized that how sad of a tale it was, actually, to be a girl who have had plenty of experiences with sex, yet not one of them pleasant—or actually wanted by her.

\---

It wasn’t like Summer didn’t have a libido. She did. She had desire. She wanted many people, thought that many people would be good in bed, but those people never wanted her.

 _No one_ wanted her.

So she made herself a kind of girl that some sort of people would want, and the easiest way was to be cheap. Dust rouge on her cheeks, throw on something skimpy and tight on top of a push-up bra, and wear high heels. Strobe lights helped.

It was disgusting that the only way sex ended up with was either in the form of rape or prostitution.

Hey. At least someone wanted her, right?  And if someone was willing to go the lengths of raping her, at least that meant she was desirable?

She entered the building, thankful that the lobby was empty save for a couple of people who weren’t even looking at her. Attention? Yeah, right. She entered the elevator.

“Ms Summer. I was worried about you.” Friday greeted. “Are you injured?”

Summer shook her head. “No.” She swiped at the tears, sniffling. She composed herself. “No. I’m alright. Needed a stroll like I said. Don’t worry.”

Friday brought her up to her floor and she walked out cautiously. Would anyone be wondering where she had gone? She looked around. There was loud laughter coming from the longue so Summer trailed there. Everyone was crowded on the seats, watching some sort of funny movie on the humongous TV.

She walked inside, but not too closely so they wouldn’t smell the alcohol on her, wouldn’t see the tear tracks on her skin.

“Oh, hi!” Steve waved. “Where were you for dinner? Were you playing the piano again?”

Summer gave a careful shrug. “Wasn’t hungry. Wanted to work on scales.” She lied.

“Oh. Okay. Well, come sit and watch!”

Summer reeled back. “Oh, I don’t even know the story…”

“You don’t have to,” Steve assured and then he looked around. “Oh. Um, I’m sure we can make some room… Clint, scoot!”

Clint grumbled and nudged Natasha.

“No, no. I think I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.” Summer said.

Steve looked up, and nodded. “Okay.” 

She walked away. She wasn’t actually going to shower. She couldn’t. She still freaked out. She freaks out when it fucking rains, it was pathetic. Fucking _rain_. Not even thunderstorms, although that would be plenty scary. Rain and electricity?

She smelled like booze though, but she couldn’t barge into Bucky’s and bathe in his luxurious Jo Malone bath set. So she hastily peeled off the shirt and swapped it for a cotton one, discarding her pants somewhere. She went under the blankets and hugged it close to herself, pretending it was someone else’s arms, a cocoon of safety. But pretending was so difficult when you’ve tasted so much of the bitter reality.

She knew she couldn’t sleep, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t make a show out of it and find a new lie to believe in, since her last one about her actually worth the Avengers clearly did not work out.

\---

Summer was dreaming.

It started out like the same dream. The one she had all those months ago, in the forest.

Pristine white lab, devoid of any people. Summer’s footsteps were loud on the polished marble floor. She looked down. The floor was so polished that she could see her own reflection in the floor, except—

She pressed a hand to her face. It wasn’t her.

She was wearing someone else’s face… someone…

_Sophia?_

A loud crash sounded and she looked up. There was a man now, standing by a table, a vial broken in front of him, a blue liquid splashed everywhere.

Summer— _Sophia?—_ was walking towards him, and it felt like Summer couldn’t control her own body anymore. She was an audience here, watching her own dream unfold in front of her.

A dream? Nightmare? Recollection?

She leaned down carefully to meet the trembling man’s face.

“Oh, don’t be so scared,” It wasn’t Summer’s voice that came out of her mouth. It had the timbre of Sophia’s, but it was laced with a German accent. She picked up the largest piece of broken glass and set it on the table. “It isn’t an important vial anyway.”

The man was still shaking in fear despite Sophia’s warm tone.

“Come on.” Sophia reached out a hand after tossing away the broken glass. “Let me help you up.” When the man didn’t take her hand, she sighed. “Come on. I won’t hurt you.”

Hesitantly, the man took her hand and let her help him up. “Careful now,” Sophia murmured softly.

There was a slamming of a door and Sophia turned her head.

James. 

“What is happening?”

Sophia pulled the man onto his feet and stepped in front of him protectively, eyeing James. “Nothing.”

“And what is that?” James pointed at the mess of blue liquid splashed on the floor and the pieces of glass.

“I broke it,” Sophia said immediately. “I was clumsy. And Pierre fell, so I am helping him up.”

“Don’t bother with the lies, Sophia.” James gritted. “I knew you never had much control over yourself, but to this extent?”

“James…”

“I taught you better than this.” James whispered dangerously and Summer shivered at the sound, at the familiarity. “Did I not?”

Sophia did not respond.

“Kill him.” It was cold and brutal, and final.

“What?” Sophia gaped.

“Kill him. Your Pierre. If you belong to Hydra, you will kill him. Do you? Belong to Hydra?”

Sophia’s swallow was deafening as she shook her head. “Are you really going to do this, James?”

“Kill. Him.” He enunciated. “Now, Agent.”

“Yes, Sir.” Sophia slowly turned around, hand pushing off the safety of a pistol she had produced from her side.

There was a long moment as she brought her hand up. “I’m sorry, Pierre.”

Pierre shook his head, but not to beg for mercy. “It’s okay,” He whispered instead in a soft voice. “I forgive you, Sophia.”

Sophia’s hand shook. She closed her eyes.

There was a bang.

Summer woke up.

\---

“Bucky,” Summer called out. “Bucky, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Bucky looked up from where he was sitting reading a newspaper. “What is it?”

Summer walked closer to him and sat down. “Sophia is an agent from Hydra.”

Bucky reeled back in surprise. “Summer, what?”

“Sophia,” She emphasized, grabbing his arm. “She is a spy. She’s from Hydra.”

Bucky gave her a look. “And how do you know?”

Summer hesitated. Honestly, she didn’t think much about it. She just knew that it was real. How could she ever dream up of something so ridiculously detailed and vivid? She thought Bucky would immediately believe her too. Which was ridiculous, now she thought about it. There was absolutely no reason why anyone should believe her over Sophia.

“I had a dream,” She stammered out awkwardly. “And Sophia was Hydra.”

Bucky scoffed, laughing. “Summer, come on. A dream?”

“Bucky, I’m not kidding,” She said in a small voice.

Bucky sighed and his eyes softened. “I know.”

Summer’s eyebrows shot up. “You do, then why don’t you—”

“Summer, I know you’re scared about things. Like Hydra. Don’t worry. They can’t hurt you here. We’ll protect you.”

Summer groaned in frustration. “So you don’t believe me?”

“Unless there’s obvious proof you can’t just go and blame Sophia for being… Hydra just because you’re paranoid or hallucinating. Sophia was tortured there, Summer. You’re blaming her just like… just like you were blamed.” Bucky sighed. 

Summer’s shoulder sagged. “Yeah. I’m sorry,” She stood up. “I’ll just go take my antipsychotics now. Maybe the hallucinations will stop.”

“Summer, I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean to make you sound delusional.” Bucky rushed to say. “But think about it.”

Summer rubbed at her eyes and said nothing. Maybe she really was crazy. Maybe the procedure had done something to her. Maybe she was just really, really jealous of Sophia.

Except she kept having the same dream for the next few days, even when she angrily downed the last six tablets in her bottle.

\--

It was 2 AM when Andrea walked to grab a mug of warm milk and saw Bucky with a small light, sitting on the kitchen counter with approximately ten stacks of papers and a dimly lit computer, one hand scrolling on the mouse, the other running agitatedly through his messy hair.

“Why, hello there,” Andrea said and the Russian assassin literally jumped in his seat, turning over to face the 14-year-old with wide eyes. “Busy doing some research?”

Bucky looked at everything sprawled around him and sighed deeply. “Yeah… just something I have to work on.”

Andrea set the cup of milk into the microwave to heat it. “As super-soldier as you are, you still need sleep, you know.”

“I know,” Bucky said tiredly and got off the chair. He poured himself what looked like the fifth mug of coffee, judging by the leftover contents in the coffee pot. “It’s important.”

“As in, you don’t want anyone else to find out?” Andrea asked innocently as Bucky gulped down his liquid gold.

“Smart girl,” Bucky murmured in an exhausted voice. He stretched, flexing his ridiculous biceps.

“You’re like Atlas, you know,” Andrea commented.

Bucky looked down at his figure and looked back up at Andrea, a surprised look on his face. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Not the muscles, stupid,” She grabbed her milk. “I meant the fact that both of you have the world on your shoulders.”

Bucky struggled to find a response. Andrea tiptoed and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Bucky. You’ll figure it out. I know it.”

With that, she turned around and left, but not before she noticed that every single file that sat on the table, and all the tabs on his computer were about Sophia Carlson.

No. Sophia _Dillinger._

\--

“What happens to Atlas?”

Andrea looked up from her book. “Heracles built two columns to support the sky and freed him.”

Bucky nodded.

Andrea sighed under her breath. It wasn’t entirely the truth, but not really a lie, only one unpopular variation of it. Atlas had actually looked into Medusa’s eyes and was turned into stone, but Andrea decided Bucky could use a little bit of hope to lessen the weight he carried around him all the time.

There was better hope from Hercules than Medusa.

Andrea flipped a page of her book. _Better hope from Summer than Sophia._

\---

Summer fiddled her thumbs. “Do you believe me?”

Wanda placed a hand on Summer’s shoulder. “As a person who dreams in memories of torture, and also slightly telepathic, yes.” She paused. “And also, as your friend, yes. Of course I do.”

“We need to find proof,” Summer murmurs. “Solid, concrete proof.” She slumped. “I just… what if something happens?”

“I know,” Wanda murmured. “And I know just the person who will help us.”

\---

“Tony? Seriously?” Summer gave Wanda a look. “He won’t believe us!”

“Trust me. He will,” Wanda assured as she dragged Summer into Tony’s work space. “Tony,” Wanda called out.

“What do you ladies want,” Tony wheeled into their sight, one hand holding a screwdriver. “A piece of this?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Used to his antics, Wanda just ignored it. “We want you to help us look for someone,” Wanda announced. “Are you up for it?”

“Sure,” Tony chirped. “Who is it?”

“Sophia.” Summer said in a clipped tone. Tony raised his eyebrows.

“Um. I think she’s probably in her room?” He drawled out, confused. “Or are you talking about a different Sophia?”

Wanda raised an eyebrow at Summer. She sighed. “Well. We… _I_ think that Sophia is a secret Hydra agent and I would like you to confirm or oppose my theory.”

Tony blinked for a couple of seconds before nodding. “Okay.” He accepted. “Sounds legit.”

Tony moved to his computer, Wanda and Summer following suit.

“Sophia Carlson,” He said. “All the files on her that SHIELD has pretty much match up. Her school certificates, birth certificate, fun stuff.” Tony continued to mumble under his breath about scanning some things and what not.

“Okay, hold on,” He held up a hand. “She has never been enrolled in her supposed high school. No data of her.” A few more clicks. “Her information has not been registered in the hospital she was born in.” Tony frowned. “But she is registered as a citizen of the state of California.”

As he scratched his chin, he suddenly blinked. “Friday, when you said there was information going into Hydra, where did the source lead?”

“Let me track that, sir,” Friday responded. “It came from… within the tower, sir.”

Tony shared a look with Wanda and Summer. “And can you trace what that information was, Friday?”

“On it, sir,” Friday said. “Hmm. It’s a little intricate… highly secured. Oh. There we go. Here you are, sir.”

A window popped up and Tony tilted his head at the message. “What?”

“It appears to be encrypted, sir.” Friday pointed out at the message. “The automatic protocols I have been implemented with do not seem apt to decipher it.”

“I’ll have to do with my own genius, then,” Tony sighed deeply. “Alright. At least we’ve got something.” He turned to Wanda and Summer. “Let me try to figure this out, and then I’ll let you guys know when I figure something out.”

“Okay,” Summer said anxiously. If Sophia truly was from Hydra, she could be killing every single person in the tower right now using her element of surprise. She didn’t know what to hope for—Sophia being an agent or Sophia just being absolutely innocent.

On one hand, Bucky would be devastated, but on the other, Bucky could be _hers_.

\---

Cryptography had never been Tony’s strong suit, but with a brain like his, it didn’t take all too long for him to figure out the message. It had turned out to be in German as well, so maybe that was a reason.

Tony translated the message and sat back in half shock and half realization.

_‘Agent Dillinger. Report #6_

_The Avengers seem to have found out something about the girl, Summer. I think it will be a week or so before they move out to the base. Stark’s artificial intelligence seems to have been picking up that there are information going out from the tower, more so than normal, so I will be going under the radar. Do not expect frequent reports after this._

_On another note, the witch tried to read my mind, I did my best not to allow so. I’m afraid she suspects something. You will have to extract me soon, before they figure out what is wrong.’_

“Oh, fuck me,” Tony groaned breathily before getting back to work.

\---

Steve landed punch after punch, Bucky mostly on defence, but throwing in a swing once in a while which Steve dodged. Bucky’s leg shot out when he spotted a weak spot in Steve’s posture, causing him to fall down.

“You still leave your side open.” Bucky complained.

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve grinned as he let his best friend haul him up. “It’s just… it’s your spot. I’m still used to having you there.”

Bucky nudged him, rolling his eyes. “Sap.”

“Jerk,” Steve sang back.

“Mr Rogers, Mr Barnes,” Friday said suddenly on the overhead speakers. “Your presence has been requested by Mr Stark in his office.”

They shared a look. “Any specific reasons?” Steve asked.

“He would like to tell you in person,” Friday just said, adhering to her sir’s orders.

It wasn’t unusual for him to just randomly call people to his workspace, so they just begrudgingly strolled over there together.

As they arrived, Bucky realized they weren’t the only ones summoned. Wanda and Summer were also there, standing stiffly.

“What’s up, Tony?” Steve asked, his Captain voice already on.

Tony looked extremely serious, which was very uncharacteristic and strange. Bucky frowned. What was going on?

“Well,” Tony began. “No point in delay. We have figured something… something extremely drastic.” His shoulders bunched up.

“What is it, Tony?” Steve asked warily.

“Well,” Tony drawled. “I might have found out, with the help of you ladies, but mostly me,” Tony added before letting out a huff. “Right. Well. No other way of saying this: Sophia is Hy-driah.” He said. “Get it? Sophia’s Hydra. Yeah.”

Silence consumed the whole place.

“What?” Steve gritted out. Bucky looked to him. His face was pale and eyes hard. “Sophia? The Sophia in this tower, the Sophia _who was enslaved by Hydra themselves?”_

“Turns out,” Tony said awkwardly. “She lied. She’s been interacting with Hydra since she got here, feeding them information.”

Steve was stunned silent, eyes blinking slowly as he tried to understand how it happened. Tony’s eyes darted nervously to Bucky.

“You seem to be very calm, Bucky. Very dangerously calm,” Tony said, a hint of fear in his voice. “Are you… okay?”

Bucky nodded. “I am.” He said calmly, secretly liking the way Tony squirmed at the tranquil tenor of his voice.

“You heard me, right? Sophia’s… an agent from Hydra.”

“I know,” Bucky said and cracked a small smile. “I have for a couple of days now.”

\---

Tony gaped at him. “W-what?”

“Don’t credit yourself with all the researching capabilities, Stark.” Bucky said. “She’s a covert agent from Hydra, and from what I found, she’s actually named Sophia Dillinger, otherwise referred to as agent 3027. I didn’t tell because I wanted to make sure before I actually jump into conclusions.” Bucky said softly, eyes darting towards Summer, who was looking at him with wide eyes. “But I decided to look into it.”

Because even though Bucky had acted otherwise, he had believed Summer. He believed her over Sophia. Would, over anyone, over himself.

“Why, you sly little spy,” Tony narrowed his eyes playfully. “Friday, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did not think it was of any concern sir, and I, unlike you, respect the privacy of oneself. Unless it’s crucial, and from the protocols that you, sir, have given me, I seem to have not thought so.” Friday said eloquently.

Even her smart comeback didn’t help to relieve the tense atmosphere. Steve’s shoulders were tight, his commander face on as he strategized their next steps. Bucky looked at Summer, he was always looking at her. She seemed to be incredibly nervous and scared. It must be nice, Bucky thought, if he could just go next to her like a lover would, wrap one arm around her and promise her it will be okay, that he would protect her.

Promises. If promises were horses, Bucky would ride barns full of wishful horses too pretty to be draft horses, too weak to end up as show horses.

Steve finally processed everything and folded his arms. “Okay.” He began. “So, what is the plan? We confront her? Interrogate her? Or pass her to SHIELD?”

“No SHIELD.” Tony said immediately and Bucky resonated his opinion. “The rest sounds good to me. I enjoy watching our redhead spy fluster people with her freaky interrogation techniques.” Tony said. “Barnes?”

Bucky nodded. “We do this on our own.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “And after that, what do we do?”

“We can’t give her back. She might have sensitive information about us that she might not have been able to pass on to her handlers,” Bucky said cautiously. “We’ll have to… eliminate her.”

Steve nodded slowly. “We don’t have much of a choice.” He murmured. “Okay. Friday, can you ask for Sophia to come here? Don’t make it obvious.”

“Of course, Mr Rogers,” Friday said. “Inconspicuousness is always my motif.”

Steve laughed softly at that. “If you’re anything like your creator, it is definitely not.”

“If I am anything like Mr Stark, which is of course a humongous compliment, sir, bullshitting is also an important role in my function.” Friday said smoothly.

Stark gasped dramatically as the rest laughed at their antics. It successfully lightened the mood slightly. Bucky thought that that was one of Friday’s most important and helpful features, asides from keeping the tower safe and being their faithful, never resting eye.

“Okay. Show me what you have on Sophia,” Steve told Tony and moved next to him. Wanda also moved to see what Tony had to show.

And so there were two.

Summer stepped towards Bucky, eyes peering up at him. Jesus, those curled lashes were going to kill him one day. She gave a faint smile before she looked away. She seemed to hesitate so Bucky waited.

“You… you researched?”

Bucky nodded. He thought that what she probably meant was, _you believed me_?

“I wanted to make sure you… we were safe.” Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets. “And I don’t ever want you to live in doubt. You trusted _me_ enough to tell me, cared...” He faltered uncertainly. “Cared enough about me to tell me what you thought about who I was seeing and kind of warned me I guess, so…”

“Thank you,” Summer whispered. “For believing in me.”

“Of course,” Bucky looked down.

“Bucky,” Summer started again unsurely. “What… that day, when Clint… Why did he say I was a kid?”

Bucky blinked. “What? When? Why?”

“You know,” Summer fiddled with her shirt, something Bucky found that she did very often when she got nervous. The rest of her would always look sort of indifferent or uncaring, but her fingers would always twitch anxiously to do something. Like all the other traits she had that Bucky knew of, it was endearing. “The other day. When you guys were busy, and I… wanted to show you the piano piece.”

“Oh yeah!” Bucky exclaimed. “I’m so sorry! I forgot!”

“It’s okay, Bucky,” Summer pursed her lips. “I mean… Clint said something about me being a kid, and having to compromise and stuff.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he tried to recall such incident. Then it clicked. “Oh!” He exclaimed. He relaxed. “Oh, Summer…”

“What?” She asked, giving a gentle, self-depreciating smile as she rocked on her feet. “Didn’t think I’d overhear?”

“No,” Bucky corrected. “Didn’t think you’d misunderstand.”

“Then… what did he mean?” She asked warily.

“We were talking about SHIELD. They wanted us to something we didn’t like. So we compromised.” Bucky recalled. “Appease them.”

Summer’s mouth formed an ‘O’ shape. “Sorry,” She murmured sheepishly, looking embarrassed. “God. I’m so self-centred, thinking everything is about me.” Her lips pursed and she slumped uncomfortably. “I’m sorry about that too.”

“Jesus, no, Summer,” Bucky said softly. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, I’m sorry that we made you think we were talking about you. You should never think that,” He said and carefully scanned her face until their eyes met. “I’m really… proud,” He tested the word, unsure if he was allowed to feel that way. “That you had the courage to tell me, ask me.”

Pink flushed her cheeks, her lips curling inwards shyly. “Thank you,” She murmured. She cleared her throat and tried to downplay the sudden rush of timidity that had come over here and tried, once more, to look nonchalant. “What was it that you didn’t want to do?” She changed the topic.

“You,” Bucky said before hitting his head. “No, no, not like that. Obviously I wouldn’t want to do you. Jeez. Not like that either, I mean, I would want to—Christ.”

Summer just raised her eyebrows curiously, tentative smile on her lips, obviously not taking Bucky’s flummoxed state too seriously. (Because, shit, Bucky kind of really did want to do her. In a respectful manner, of course. But still, very, very _hot_ at the same time. If she allowed. Shit, now Bucky was going to think about it all day). “What about me?”

“They wanted us to pass you to them. Interrogate you. Ask you about the inside of Hydra.” Bucky murmured. “I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with it.”

“Oh,” Summer said, blinking. “Well… Thanks.”

Bucky reached out to Summer and hesitantly placed his hand on her shoulder. “Summer, um… You shouldn’t have to worry about things like these. We care about you a lot here. We won’t just turn around and say things like that.”

Summer nodded, before scowling, though there was a vehement rosiness to her cheeks. “You could’ve told me SHIELD wanted me to ask. I would have done it. I’m not… invalid to be interrogated or something.”

Bucky gave a small smile at Summer’s need to look tough in front of him. She didn’t ever need to. Bucky knew how tough she was. She was so fucking strong to have gone through what she did, and came out alive, came out so incredibly strong still. She was amazing, wasn’t she? “Well, I’m sorry,” He admitted. “I guess I just thought I had to take care of you. And SHIELD isn’t the most righteous people either. I’m sorry. I know you can look after yourself. I’m sorry I thought you couldn’t.”

“I forgive you.” Summer shuffled her feet. “But… mm. I don’t mind it.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t mind you taking care of me,” Summer said quietly, eyes not meeting Bucky’s. “It’s nice to have someone care.”

“Summer, we all do,” Bucky murmured. _And I really, really do._

“I guess I just need a reminder sometimes,” Summer murmured under her breath. “Is that asking for too much? I’m sorry. I know I need a lot of attention sometimes.”

“It’s not too much.” Bucky assured. He was willing to give so much more. “Here: I care about you, Summer. Quite a bit.” _Probably too much for it to be good._ “That a good enough reminder?”

Summer gave a brief smile at the floor. “Thanks, Buck.”

Summer looked up at Bucky, sinful lashes and all (Bucky really needed to stop commenting on them, but, jeez, they were really, really, pleasantly distracting…), and gave a soft smile. She inched forwards and—

“What’s going on?” Sophia asked in a careful tone. Everyone snapped their heads to her and Stark discarded the holographic panel of her he had open. From the corner of Bucky’s eye, he saw him slink under his table, scuffled for a bit, and then folded his arms casually like he didn’t just put on his bracelets on.

“Hi Ms Carlson,” Steve was the one to say politely, although there was nothing too polite about his eyes and careful stance. The glass door behind Sophia clicked shut. “Or shall I say, Ms Dillinger?”

\---

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! 
> 
> So, uni starts literally tomorrow and I am nervous as HECK and a little excited. So yeah. Hopefully I will still have time to write and stuff. 
> 
> Leave a comment, let me know what you think :) Thankies <3
> 
> Also, I hope you guys are all having a good time :) Stay safe my friends! (email me kkyclaudia@gmail.com if you want to talk. I mean, I use tumblr but like, I'm not good with it. :') )
> 
> Also... if you happen to want watch me awkwardly sing with my bad haircut, check out https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keal_6hnDa8
> 
> ALSO THANK JESUS FOR SAVANNAH MY BETA WHOOP


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia's identity is revealed, Bucky finally asks Summer out, and Summer overthinks, but her friends are there to support her. \
> 
>  
> 
> Also... surprise guest!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. 
> 
> I'm sorry that this is super overdue, and I tried to get this out sooner, but I just couldn't. Please understand that :')
> 
> Anyways, more notes in the ending. For now... enjoy the chapter! 
> 
> (Unbeta-ed because lovely beta is busy with finals! Will go through it, but this is the unbeta-ed version)

“Or should I say, Dillinger?”

Sophia’s hand instinctively went to her side where she usually would keep a holstered gun, breath hitching before she stabilized it. Fuck. She thought she had been careful enough to not leave any tracks behind.

She thought wrong.

Dead silence fell upon them, everyone’s eyes trained on her, waiting for her to make one move that was out of line.

She swallowed, lifting her chin, begging her lips not to tremble. It was so funny. She had killed so much that she was soaked up to her chin in cold blood, yet she was so scared of it. Death. Dying.

“Are you going to kill me?” She asked, voice low so they wouldn’t hear it wavering.

“We’re going to question you first,” Steve clipped sternly, Captain America face  on. “And then decide what we’re going to do with you.”

“They’re going to come for me.” She told them quietly, palming the pocketknife she had tucked into her waistband of her pants. Its edge pressed against her thigh. She didn’t have cyanide capsules but she did have knives. She could kill herself, but with her useful information too. “I’m important to them, they’re going to come for me.”

“We’ll be prepared,” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to do this the hard way or the easy way?” He asked.

Sophia had already lost. A trained assassin since birth as she was, she couldn’t fight against four Avengers. Her best shot would be trying to get to Summer. But James would sooner die than let that happened. He _loved_ her.

Sophia tried to bargain. “If I gave you all the information I know about Hydra, would you kill me after?”

Captain America narrowed his eyes. “I told you. We’ll see from there.”

“That wasn’t a question, it was a request,” Sophia said, and released her hold on the pocketknife.  “I don’t…” Her eyes darted to Bucky’s pleadingly. “I don’t want to go back to Hydra.”

James’ eyes were cold and emotionless. Sophia looked away. It felt like looking into a mirror.

The Captain stiffened. “You’re willing to betray them?”

Sophia hesitated. “As long as you promise not to let me go back to them.” She promised. “I’ll tell you everything I know.” She looked away. “Hydra is a fate worse than death.” She murmured.  

“I’ll let you know I am too,” Stark spoke up. “You really think we’re going to believe you?”

“Yes,” Sophia said immediately. “You can have the witch look into my mind.”

“You’ve been trained to deflect telepathic disturbances,” James mentioned quietly. “And play mind tricks.” He added, eyes piercing through Sophia. She clenched her jaw and glanced away.

“I will allow her to look,” Sophia promised, though the idea of someone going through her brain was largely discomforting.

Wanda stepped forward, fingers curled by her sides. “Okay.”

Steve gave her a concerned look. “Be careful, okay?” He said so softly even Sophia with her genetically modified ears could barely pick up on. 

How nice it must be to have someone be so genuinely concerned for your welfare. Not because you were an asset, but because you were family.

How nice, and how scary it was at the same time.

Sophia wanted to ask her how it was like to have a family, to be cared for. But then again, she didn’t quite want an answer.

It was better if she didn’t know what she did not have.

Wanda touched her head and she closed her eye, fidgeting of having someone looking into her mind. She could feel the presence there, poking at her. Sophia swallowed, steeling herself. The witch kept herself at the surface, no delving deep enough to go into her subconscious. Good. Because most of the time, Sophia didn’t know what was happening there anyway.

“She’s not lying,” the Scarlet Witch stepped away.

Rogers nodded. “Lock her up. Set her in the room, I’ll go brief Natasha.”

“I should go in too.” Maximoff murmured. Steve nodded. “To make sure.”

“Bucky,” Rogers eyed his friend. “Lock her up?”

James gave a nod. Before he neared Sophia, though, his eyes searched Summer’s, giving her a questioning look, silently asking her whether she would be okay. Summer gave a small, reassuring smile. Even then, James still paused, making sure she was alright, before he grabbed the handcuffs deposited by Tony on his table.

He was never like that with Sophia.

Wordlessly, James swiftly put Sophia into the handcuffs, bounding her hands together. He tugged her out of the room roughly, and by God, did it feel like she was going home.

Home. Hydra. It was synonymous to her. Hydra was familiar and thus had become her home. It was there were her heart belonged, after all. Her heart was theirs, and she could do nothing about it. Her blood was theirs. Her soul was theirs.

Sophia was utterly theirs.

It was funny to think Hydra could ever resemble a home, but what did Sophia know? They took care of her, gave meaning to her life. It was all she ever knew, cruelty and pain her environment. Anything could be home if you never truly understood the meaning of the word.

But now… now she was seeing outside, she was seeing the world. She had been on field missions before, of course, but this was the longest time she was ever away and to see this family… this ragtag team of superheroes…

It was so pure, and it was so devastating. Devastatingly pure.

Purely devastating.

James put her inside a white room. Sophia immediately thought it was very much like the white torture Hydra had her undergo. Hydra had her experience hundreds of strange torture tactics so she would never be affected on the field. They never had her experience one of the cruellest things of all, though. Love.

She didn’t love James, not really. His heart and his mind had always been too preoccupied with someone else for her to really fall in love with. No. She loved someone else, someone she could never have.

She felt like a silly high-school girl saying it, but... it sucked. A lot.

Sophia switched to German. “I didn’t trick you or anything, you know,” She said, James’ back to her. “It was just strategy. You were vulnerable. You hated her.  I was everything she wasn’t.” She watched for any reaction. “It’s the reason why I call you James, too.”

And also because Bucky felt too intimate.  James had called Sophia ‘Soph’ once. Sophia had stared at herself in the mirror for 5 minutes wondering if she was compromised.

James didn’t say anything at first.

“ _Du hast recht_ ,” He raised his eyebrows. _You are right._ “You’re everything that she’s not.”

He left then, leaving Sophia in the white room all by herself. Too bad she had so much red on her fingers that it didn’t fucking matter anyway.

\---

Bucky found Summer in the kitchen eating chocolates. She looked up, mid-chew, like a deer caught in headlights and flushed.

“Sorry. Am I interrupting something?” Bucky gave a playful smirk. 

Summer stammered as she slid the lid back on the box. “Sorry.” She murmured. “I got carried away…”

“By all means, you can have it all.” Bucky said and joined her by the countertops.

“Really?” Summer asked, and to Bucky’s glee she shot a cheeky smile back. “I might finish it all off though. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I won’t,” Bucky said softly. _Not anymore_.

Summer’s cheeky smile turned genuine and she opened the lid of the box again. There were about 10 left. She hesitated and then took the last one from the left side and extended it to Bucky.

Bucky took it graciously and ate it while Summer plucked out another. As Bucky chomped on the melting chocolate, he paused as he tasted the caramel.

“That was the last caramel one,” Summer informed, smiling up at Bucky shyly. “It’s good, isn’t it?” She asked, eyebrows raised hopefully and innocently, unaware of what she had just done and the weight of it, the very one that was settling into the depths of Bucky’s poor old heart. She had given the very last caramel chocolate to Bucky. Her favourite kind.

Summer was just offering Bucky a piece of chocolate. So why did it feel like she was offering him her heart instead?

Realizing Summer was still expecting an answer, Bucky swallowed the chocolate.

“Yeah,” Bucky said softly, eyes trained on her. “It’s good.”

Summer beamed. God, she shone when she smiled like that.        

And when she smiled like that, Bucky just couldn’t help himself, his brain often just short-circuits when she looked like that—“Go on a date with me.”

Summer looked up, wide-eyed, surprised by the sudden statement. “Uh?” She emitted dumbly. Bucky resisted the urge to smile dopily at her confused expression.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky started again. Where had his charisma gone? This was the same man that flirted his way out of problems! Which, alright, made sense, because Summer was obviously not a problem. _Not at all_. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Like a… a date. Just the two of us,” Summer processed.

“Yes.” Bucky confirmed. “No pressure.”

Summer pondered over this, chewing on her chocolate. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky perked up.

“Today?”

“How about tomorrow evening?”

“Sure.” Summer agreed. “Where?”

“Um. A dinner place nearby. I think.” Bucky fumbled. “I haven’t quite gotten the details—”

“It’s okay,” Summer smiled and slid off the counter. “Well, I think… I’m having a session with my therapist… so…”

“Oh, go ahead.”

Summer nodded but remained where she stood. Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“I would—” Summer halted before. “Can I—” She mumbled something under her breath before, “May I give you a kiss? Kiss you?”

Bucky’s world stopped.

Oh my.

“Yes,” Bucky replied the instant after his hammering heart could compose itself.  

Summer leaned in close and kissed Bucky’s cheeks, warm lips brushing on his light stubble, nose poking against his cheekbone.

Well. He had expected a kiss on the lips but… that small peck somehow still managed to set Bucky’s heart and soul into flames.

Summer leaned back and gave an unsure grin, which Bucky returned one. She smelled of caramel and Bucky wanted so much to taste those lips she was chewing on. But he’ll take it however slow and steady Summer wanted them to, because Bucky wasn’t going anywhere.

\---

Summer ran down the hallway.

Therapy session, her ass.

“Oh my God, Wanda, I’m going on a date tomorrow! With Bucky,” Summer slammed into Wanda’s room before halting into a stop. Wanda and Vision were seated together, close enough to touch, on the bed. “Oh. Sorry.”

“No worries, Summer,” Vision stood up with a small smile. “Congratulations on your date.”

“Thank you, Vision,” Summer gave a curtsey. “But don’t congratulate me yet. I might just fuck it up.”

“Well. I’m certain your worries are the reason why you’ve looked for Wanda, so I think it’s best I leave. As knowledgeable as I am, I don’t think dating in particular is where I thrive in.” He nodded politely and opened the door. “I hope you do not… eff it up.”

“Bye, Vis,” Wanda called out.

“I’ll see you tonight, Wanda,” Vision said warmly and phased through the doorway.

Summer plopped down where the purple man sat a few seconds ago.

“So,” Wanda grinned, folding her long, slender legs so she was sitting cross-legged. “A date, huh?”

“Yup,” Summer grinned excitedly. “What should I even wear? I’ll have to borrow some of your clothes.”

“Duh. And I’ll be happy to. Venue?” Wanda asked objectively. “Time?”

“Some kind of fancy restaurant, dinnertime.”

“Mm. A dress, maybe.”

“I don’t remember the last time I wore a dress,” Summer murmured. “Sunday school? Bea was still alive then.” She decided that mentioning the last time she actually probably wore a dress was when she was trying to get strange men drunk and then steal from their back pockets.

Summer’s confidence and good mood fell a little bit. What did Bucky think of her… colourful, dirty, disgusting past? The men she had to seduce, the hands that have ran all over her body on so many occasions, the bile in her throat—

Summer’s body was used. Did Bucky really want that?

Did Bucky really deserve that?

“Summer,” Wanda called out amidst the static ringing in Summer’s ears. “Summer. You’re alright. The date will be amazing.”

Summer breathed deeply. “Okay.”

“Bucky asked you out. He likes you. And we all know he does, just by the way he looks at you,” Wanda smiled happily.

Summer nodded. Right. Bucky at least has an idea of Summer’s past. To know that, yet still want to go out with her…

Wanda rubbed her shoulder. “So, I think you’ll look great with something black against your pasty pale skin.” Wanda murmured.

Summer laughed. “Hey. Rude,” She stuck out her tongue, even though she knew just how pasty and pale she was. She should probably go out more but Summer was fucked up in the head and didn’t like going out.

Wanda flopped onto her back. “Maybe black and gold, really fancy and elegant. Ooh. I think I actually have something like that…”

Summer crinkled her nose. “I don’t think I suit elegant.” She said, self-conscious. Did she really suit anything at all? She was always wearing lousy clothes and sweatpants, so…

“Hey Wanda—” Natasha’s sexy voice floated and Summer turned her head. The redhead was standing by Wanda’s door. “Oh, hey, Summer. What are you girls talking about?”

Summer flushed lightly and Wanda beamed, glad to share. “Oh, Summer’s going on a date with Bucky.”

A smirk crept onto Natasha’s face as she advanced towards the bed. “Oh, well. Seems like James finally is getting it on.” She sat down, grinning.

“Hey, you should give pointers,” Wanda said. “You used to date Bucky, right?”

Summer froze. She didn’t know that. She tried not to look intimidated even though she totally was. Bucky? Dating Natasha? She thought they were dating at first, but since the whole thing was cleared up…

Natasha was… gorgeous. She was the epitome of sexiness. She was curvy, she was confident, she was…

Not Summer. Anything but Summer. The complete opposite of Summer.

What did Bucky see in her? Really? Oh my God.

Natasha, unsurprisingly, noticed Summer’s poorly masked horror. “It was nothing serious.” She tried to reassure.

Summer didn’t feel much better. Nothing serious? Sex? Was that what Bucky was looking for from her too?

Well, Summer wouldn’t mind, but once Bucky saw her body, he would.

“Relax, Summer,” Natasha assured. “It was a long time ago. Both of us were different people then. We were stuck in the same place, being brainwashed and killing people.  We just decided to find comfort in each other. That was all. It wasn’t as much dating as just… one night stands.”

Summer nodded, anxiety not decreasing but at least not swelling into a mammoth sized issue and choking her into a state of catatonia. “Okay.”

“Hmm. Now, as for any advice… I do know James quite well.” Natasha hummed. “But there is someone who knows him better…”

\---

“Hello?” A mop of golden blonde hair popped into the doorway.

“Steve,” Wanda rejoiced. “You’re here! We need you.”

“Sure,” Steve said, warm voice like honey as he gracefully sat criss-crossed on the floor. “What’s up?”

“Summer has a date tomorrow night with Bucky!” Wanda announced.  

“Seriously?” Steve said. “Aw, Summer, that’s great. And finally.” Natasha and Steve shared a high-five.

“Thanks,” Summer tried to smile.

“So why do you guys need me?” Steve frowned. “Are you okay, Summer? You know you can always say no if you change your mind about it. I know how much Bucky likes you, but Bucky would rather it be consensual.”

“No! I am willing to do this! More than willing.” Summer said quickly before hesitating. “I’m really excited about the date but I’m just… worried. I’m not good at dates. What kind of girl does Bucky like?”

Steve blinked. “Oh, Summer. You don’t have to hold yourself to any standards. He likes you, and that’s just purely that.”

Summer shrugged. To a certain extent, she knew there was some truth to what Steve was saying, but Summer had fucked up every single thing that came into her life, even bad stuff. “I don’t know.” Summer mumbled. “I’ve just never really been on a date.”

Everyone paused at that. Natasha asked, “Never? Not even once?”

“Yeah,” Summer shrunk. “Mostly… they just… want to have sex. Or they buy me a drink. That’s not exactly a date, right? I don’t know.”

“Well,” Steve said, smiling gently. “I’m sure Bucky will make it the best first date ever.”

Summer smiled back.  “God. I don’t even know what to wear.”

Steve thought over this. “Is it somewhere nice?”

“He said it could be a fancy diner. But I don’t want to overdress. Or under.” Summer sighed deeply.

“Bucky likes black on red,” Steve said. “He likes… ankles. And eyelashes.”

Summer laughed at that, feeling a little better at that. “Okay.”

“Look, Summer. No matter what you wear, I’m sure he’d be more  enthralled by the stuff that actually happens. The conversations, the content.” Steve said. “Of all the people I’ve seen Bucky like, you’re the one he likes most.”

“That’s true,” Natasha threw in.

“Thanks, guys,” Summer took a deep breath in. “I just think I’ll screw this up.” _I just_ know _I’ll screw this up. One way or another_.

“Not a chance,” Steve interrupted fiercely. “You’re amazing, Summer. You’re not going to screw anything up. Just be yourself.”

“Steve is right.” Wanda announced and then sat up.  “This is going to go amazing because you will be there,” She said and then threw her arms around Summer, pressing her face against the side of Summer’s head.

“Aw, yeah,” Natasha said then joined in on the hug.

“Group hug,” Steve grinned, looking very much like  a joyful Golden retriever. He wrapped his enormous arms around the three girls.  They stayed there for a while, just holding each other.

Summer breathed. Billion dollar skyscraper in one of the world’s greatest bustling cities with the Avengers aside, this was _home_. Not the Avengers, but Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff... they were home.

James Buchanan Barnes was home.

Summer… she’s finally found home. Summer was finally home.

“Guys!” A sudden voice complained. “You’re having a group hug without me?”

Andrea skipped over and ducked under Steve’s arm and Summer laughed, filled to the brim with content.

“What are we celebrating?” Andrea asked, voice muffled.

“Summer and Bucky are going on a date tomorrow night,” Wanda conveyed.

“Aw, sweet!” Andrea said happily. “My OTP!”

Summer had no idea what she was saying but God damn it, Summer loved all of them.

And it was an incredible and overwhelming feeling when Summer realized that all of them loved her too. 

\---

Sophia was chained. Wrists, arms, thigh, ankles, all strapped down. She could disengage the locks if she tried hard enough, but she deserved this.

“How many are there?” The Widow asked the moment she sat down.

“Currently, to my knowledge, there are 87 bases. 8 of them are purely for storage, about 40 of them R&D. The rest are centred on military.” Sophia answered.

“Truth,” The Witch followed up.

“Do you know where they are?” Natasha asked.

“I memorized the ones that were important.” Sophia said. “If you give me a map I can locate them for you.”

“Truth.”

“Is the Winter Soldier program still effective?”

“No, they stopped that.”

“Why?”

“The Soldiers proven to be ineffective. Programming were either not failsafe, or soldiers became too violent. Emotionless. Fear is an important part of the program. No fear, no motivation.” Sophia recited. “The number of wipes they had to do was getting frustrating.”

“What is Hydra’s current project?” Natasha asked.

“Destroy the Avengers. Summer was going to be the face of that. Obviously, that didn’t work out as they had planned but I suspect from the blood samples they got from Agent02—” Sophia backtracked, “Summer, that they had found something of substance.”

“Truth.”

“Can you get us into Hydra’s system?”

“Difficult. I can try. If I don’t report soon, they will disconnect me, change up the firewall.” Sophia said.

“Truth.”

“How did you pass through Tony and Friday’s firewalls?”

“Hydra gave me a powerful decrypting device.”

A pause from Wanda. “You’re lying.”

Sophia sighed. “I hacked it.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It is the truth,” Wanda admitted.

“How?”

Sophia sighed.  “I had just—had sex with James. He was sleeping. James’ quarters doesn’t have cameras since he isn’t comfortable with the thing. I managed to hack into Friday, disable some frequencies, created a type of circadian rhythm so every day I would have an opening to send files and receive them but not create such a huge distraction in Friday’s protocols. Messages were encrypted and ran under Friday’s radar.” 

“Truth,” Wanda said.

Natasha moved on. “Do you have activation codes?”

“No. I did not need any.” 

“Truth.”

Natasha looked down at her paper, breaking eye contact for the first time before looking back up.

“You decided to betray Hydra and spill their information to us. Are you… compromised?”

The intonation, the raised eyebrow, the gleam in the Widow’s eyes. Sophia swallowed, understanding the context of her words. “No.”

Wanda’s fingers fluttered.

“Lie.”

\---

It was in the middle of the night and Summer could not sleep, mind overthinking about the next evening and Bucky’s smile, Bucky’s lips, Bucky’s scent, Bucky’s warmth, Bucky’s eyes, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.

“Just go to sleep,” Summer murmured to herself when suddenly, a thunder struck, Summer yelped, and the building shook.

“Friday what was that?”

Friday took a second to respond. “It appears that we have a guest.”

Summer’s stomach dropped.

“Who is it?” Summer asked in a small voice.

Before Friday could reply, a loud _bang_ sounded abd she downright let out a bloody scream as her door slammed open, only to reveal—

“Bucky?” Summer asked breathlessly, tears already pricking her eyes. She tried to calm down.

Bucky stood by the doorway, the light from the corridor illuminating his panic stricken face.

“Summer,” Bucky breathed before advancing towards her.

“Bucky,” Summer returned as Bucky clambered onto her bed and then wrapped her up in his big arms. He tucked his head into the crook of Summer’s neck and then breathed. “I’m okay,” Summer said.

Bucky just nodded, inhaling and exhaling deeply until he calmed down.

It was… really nice, to have Bucky come immediately for her.

She felt precious. Bucky made her feel precious, like she was the priority.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered. “I’m sorry, I just need to you you’re alright.” He murmured something under his breath, something akin to, “Wouldn’t live with myself if you weren’t.”

“I am,” Summer promised then ran a finger through Bucky’s hair, their heartbeats pressed against each other’s. “Are you?”

“I am now, yeah,” Bucky said before pulling away. “What was that?”

Friday let out a little cough to announce her presence. “Well, that was the god of thunder,” She explained. “The son of Odin has returned.”

\---

Bucky and Summer were one of the lasts to appear at the common longue area, where booming laughter was sounding and Steve was clapping his fellow hunky blonde friend on the back. Thor looked up and smiled enthusiastically at the sight of Bucky.

“Ah. The brave metal-armed Soldier of the Winter. How are you, my friend?”  Thor asked, setting down his hammer as he gave Bucky a side hug. He then stared at Summer. “And who are you?”

“I’m Summer,” Summer introduced. “I’m new.”

“A new addition to the team! What a celebratory evening we will have!” Thor said happily.

“Uh, no. I’m just… I’m just…” Summer’s voice floated away. What was she? She wasn’t a superhero, she wasn’t beneficial to the team. She wasn’t even smart like Andrea or anything. Now, she knew she was welcomed here but…

There honestly was no reason why she was there. They were just being pitiful. Summer was ripping off them, and though she knew Tony was loaded, it wasn’t right, was it?

“She’s family,” Steve stepped in.

“Ah. I see,” Thor said approvingly, giving an understanding nod. “Good pick, James. The two of you would make lovely off-springs.”

Summer tried not to blush and looked away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ms Summer. I did not mean to be crude. My own wife, Jane Foster, very intelligent, I miss her dearly already, she tells me that I can be a little bit too straightforward sometimes. But you are very, very beautiful. Not that I plan on stealing her, of course. You and James seem to be an excellent pair.”

Wanda was giggling, Vision just smiling happily.

Steve just laughed, and gave an apologetic smile to Summer. “Thor’s right, you are beautiful, but come on, buddy, I think Tony’s in his lab listening to rock music. Let’s to find him.”

“Yes! I do miss dear Anthony as well,” Thor said and followed after

Bucky’s hand reached for Summer’s and silently, Summer took it. It was big and warm and just like Bucky.

Summer tried to inconspicuously shuffled closer to Bucky. She peered up at him only to see him fighting back a smile as their arms met.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” Bucky asked when Summer tried to cover a yawn.

Summer slowly and embarrassedly nodded.

“Alright,” Bucky said soothingly. “Good night, guys,” He said. Wanda returned a wave and a ‘night’ while Vision bid them a good night’s rest. Bruce gave a nod.

Bucky led her back to her room. “Good night, Summer,” Bucky murmured as Summer opened the door.

“Night,” Summer said as well, turning around to give a smile.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful,” He muttered, and Summer’s cheek erupted with colour. Bucky leaned down and kissed her cheek, his lips soft. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening at 6 o’clock. Is that okay?”

Summer nodded wordlessly, staring at Bucky’s back as he turned and walked away.

Great. Now she was back to where she started, unable to fall asleep again but this time out of anticipation, excitement, and her mind overthinking about Bucky and his ass.

\---

“Wow,” Wanda murmured appreciatively.

Summer was silent, staring at her reflection.

In the mirror before her stood a girl, sandy hair simply put into a half-up half-down hairstyle, wearing a beautiful black dress. She was… beautiful.

Summer avoided wearing makeup after the whole… thing. Wearing makeup had become associated with seducing men in dimly lit alleyways and _him_ , and _them_ , but she looked nothing like that dirty eyelash-battering princess. She swallowed, feeling scared and confused at the same time because she had never once thought of herself as beautiful, but that girl in the mirror, the one staring right back at her, she was. She was… beautiful.

“You are so beautiful, Summer,” Steve said warmly, standing behind her. The way he said it, _you are so beautiful,_ and not _you look so beautiful_ , sent something undecipherable into Summer’s chest.

“Thank you,” She could barely whisper as she continued to shamelessly stare at herself.

The dress was loaned from Wanda. It grazed Summer’s ankles (“ankles!” Steve had exclaimed) and was sleeveless, which Summer had been hesitant about. She always opted for long sleeved clothes because of her scars, but… she looked… she looked…

She looked away and licked her lips.

“Summer?” Wanda asked gingerly.

“Sorry,” Summer gruffly forced out. “I just… thank you for making me look this nice.”

Wanda laughed. “You’re already ‘nice’ to begin with, Summer. I just brought out the nice looking features.”

“Thank you,” Summer murmured again. “Thanks.”

She turned and looked at herself once more in the mirror. It was odd for her to be looking elegant and not sexual. She wasn’t used to dates where people talked, she was used to dates where people just fucked. She wasn’t used to dates where people argued about who’s paying, she was used to dates where she was paid to be there.

Summer wasn’t used to this kind of normalcy teenage girls get, she as a teenage girl should have gotten, but she was too busy getting into the wrong company.

Summer wasn’t pretty at all.

But at least she looked beautiful tonight.

“Go get ‘em, baby,” Wanda hooted.

“I’ll try,” Summer said, and even though her heart was pounding, she meant what she said.

Bucky was easily the best thing that had run into Summer’s life, and she was not going to ruin it. Not this time.

\---

Bucky had dated many women before. Bucky was charming and always caught flirting and winking at giggling dames. Bucky was tall and dark, tanned from working at the docks. Bucky was handsome. Bucky was very charismatic. Bucky was… nervous. Cut him some slack, he had been out of the game for quite a while.

Since becoming… lucid, as he called it, Bucky did have a few sexual encounters during nights when he just had to escape. The ladies of course knew what they were in for. Sexy mysterious brooding man, a total fixer-upper, it was the typical one night stand kind of boy they’d want, but not someone in the long term.

But that whole part of Bucky’s life was over. He was neither the charismatic boy from the 30s, nor was he the brooding mysterious man.

Bucky was just… Summer’s.

God, was he Summer’s.

He looked down at his watch, licking his lips. He could barely see his reflection in the glass of his watch. He had decided to put his hair into a man bun. Instead of the rugged messy look, he had neatly gelled his hair back and tied it with help of Natasha. His suit was also chosen with the fellow ex-Soviet’s help.

“You will look good in one size smaller,” Natasha had mumbled in Russian. “Why are you so obsessed with wearing too-big clothes and Steve so obsessed with too-tight clothes?”

So Bucky was donning a fitted suit, black and white, with a thin black tie, waiting 5 minutes early for his date.

He had booked a table at a small but fancy restaurant. It served all kinds of food, according to Becca, and had excellent feedback from customers. It wasn’t very popular, but it was well regarded by food critiques.

And also they had this special chocolate caramel fudge dessert with ice cream, so… it was a no-brainer to Bucky after that.

Bucky paused when he realized other than dessert food, Bucky didn’t exactly know what Summer’s favourite food was.

Well. He would have to find out.

Bucky heard the sound of heels and immediately looked up. His lips parted and he tried not to gape but… Summer… it was hard to not gape at Summer, no matter what she was wearing. But especially with what she was wearing tonight…

She was just—

She adorably fumbled a little in her seemingly 2-inch heels and Bucky’s stomach dropped a little.

Black on red. _Fuucckk_.

Steve must have tipped them off. Bucky did not know whether to hug him or hit him. That always seemed to be the dilemma between them two.

Oh God, Summer looked absolutely stunning. She was wearing a pair of diamond earrings, probably courtesy of Natasha, the front parts of her hair tied back, leaving her beautiful face on display. Her eyes were glittering, quite literally. There was golden dust spread on her eyelids, her eyelashes, God, her eyelashes curlier than ever, long and voluminous.

Bucky was a lucky man.

“Hi,” Bucky said as Summer got close. She seemed to be walking a little tensely and nearly tripped when Bucky grabbed her by the waist, careful not to be too far up or too far down as he stabilized her. “Careful,” He whispered. “Do you need to change your shoes maybe?” He felt awful for feeling sad about it, because the red was really… really sexy, but Summer’s comfort was a little more important.

“No, no,” Summer said and then blushed on top of the dust of pink already on her cheeks. She was always so vibrant and endearing when she blushed. “I used to walk in heels all the time, I’m just a little rusty.”

“Maybe you should bring a pair of extra shoes in case it starts hurting,” Bucky suggested.

“Great idea!” Wanda yelled, running out of the room, a pair of sandals in her hands then paused. “Uh… I mean… this would work as a fashion piece, but…”

“I’ll take them. We’re going to be driving so I’ll just leave them in the trunk,” Bucky said. “Thanks, Wanda.”

“Just looking out for my lady,” Wanda winked before running away back to the room Summer had emerged from.

“Sorry,” Summer said and Bucky turned back to her. “I didn’t mean to be so troublesome.”

“Summer,” Bucky nearly chastised. “You being comfortable is super important to me.” And safe. Safety too. And happiness. And consent. Basically, every aspect there was to Summer was important to Bucky. She was important to Bucky.

“Okay,” Summer said. “Are you… are you comfortable?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied softly. “You look… really beautiful tonight. As you do every other,” Bucky added without really thinking it through.

Summer flushed again. Jesus, _she’s adorable_. “You look really good too,” Summer confessed nervously. “I like your... um, I really like your hair,” Her voice turned into barely a whisper as she peered up through those lashes before looking away. “It’s… nice.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said. “Shall we?”

“Okay,” Summer said and then took his outstretched arm.

Bucky was determined to make this the best date of Summer’s life.

\---

Summer couldn’t imagine having a better first date.

The ice had broken between them sometime during the drive to the restaurant, so at least she wasn’t as nervous when they pulled up in front of the quaint bistro. Bucky told Summer to stay put as he rushed to the other side to open the door for Summer. She had been a total bumbling idiot, blushing as she took his hand and tripping for the umpteenth time, embarrassedly saying, “Thank God I’m taller than Wanda, or I’ll rip the hem of the dress.”

The maître d’ nodded at them. “Mr Barnes,” He greeted before bringing them to a table.

“He knows you?” Summer asked, trying to vigorously resist  the idea that Bucky had brought someone here before.

“I’ve been here alone once,” Bucky explained. “It doesn’t help when your face shows up on the news when something bad happens either.”

“Right. I forgot I’m dating a superhero,” Summer’s idiot mouth said before she could process her words. Bucky blinked at her and she shrunk. Fucking dumb head, this was just _one_ date. They weren’t really ‘dating’, although, literally, they would be. But they weren’t official or anything, jeez, Summer—

“Hey. We can be dating. If you want.”

Summer didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t entirely used to relationships where people asked what she wanted, if she was comfortable, and went extra lengths or held back based on her requests. In short, she wasn’t used to healthy relationships. 

“You don’t have to be afraid to say if you want or don’t want, I promise I will never let something like that influence how I treat you as a person,” Bucky added, his eyes soft.

“I… I do want that.” Summer managed to say. “I want to date you and be exclusive.”

Exclusiveness. That was something Summer never used to have.

“Good,” Bucky smiled happily. “Because I want that too.”

Summer fought back yet another blush as those blue-grey eyes stared into hers. Bucky looked so beautiful that night, hair slicked back into a bun, the suit hugging him just right. It wasn’t fair at all, when Summer was looking like a stick drowning. Though, it was a better look than her usual drab so.

“Good evening,” A woman comes up to the table, dressed in uniform. “My name is Elizabeth, and you can call me Beth,” She smiled, voice dropping, looking directly at Bucky. Summer faltered a little. Elizabeth—she would call her Beth but she did not exactly think that the friendliness extended to her—was gorgeous. Curvy body, dark black hair, eyes blue, lips red. Summer tried to sit taller. “Would you like to start with a drink? Perhaps a champagne or a wine?”

“We,” Bucky emphasized and looked at Summer, who gave a nervous smile back, “would like a bottle of red wine. Is that okay with you, Summer?”

Summer swore the waitress secretly rolled her eyes at the sound of her name. “Uh, yeah. Red… red wine is good.”

Summer… did not think she ever had red wine.

Vodka, scotch, margarita, tequila, rum, martini, jugs of beer after beer, sure, but never really wine.

“What kind of red would you like? A merlot, perhaps?” Beth was looking at her. Summer swallowed. Fuck. Bucky probably knew all about wines, and Beth probably did too. Oh my God. This was embarrassing.

Summer shrunk into herself. “I don’t know,” She could barely whisper.

Beth looked proud. “How about you, sir? Would you like to pick a certain kind of red wine? We have a delicious Cabernet Sauvignon from 2015. Would you like a bottle?”

“Hell if I know. I lived in during the Great Depression then became a POW for over 70 years, so it’s not like I had the liberty to drink beverages that isn’t water, let alone fancy red wine.” Bucky drawled and Summer’s stomach swooped a little at his Brooklyn accent.  

The waitress paled a little.

Bucky licked his lips and gave the waitress a curt nod. “Just bring me any bottle of red wine. Not the cabinet sovereign or something though.”

“Cabernet Sauvignon,” The waitress just murmured in a faded tone before coughing and nodding. “Very well. I will be back with a bottle of red wine.”

“Well, that was kind of mean,” Summer raised an eyebrow when the lady finally left.

“I don’t know, she was being a little rude by trying to flirt with me when I’m quite apparently on a date.” Bucky retorted.

Summer’s mouth fell. Oh, so he noticed. “Well, I mean, you can’t blame that on her.” Summer murmured.

“Why not?”

“Look at you,” Summer nearly snorted. “You’re looking like that and you don’t expect a couple of girls wanting to get a piece of that.”

“Well, they should have a little respect,” Bucky explained softly. “I’m here with you and you only, and that’s quite obvious.”

“Very questionable, though,” Summer muttered, not expecting Bucky to hear. She apparently forgot she was dating a super soldier too.

“Hey, Summer,” Bucky interrupted immediately. “You are beautiful. And anyone who decides to talk to you or befriend you will be blessed by your sarcasm and wit. And your adorableness.”

Summer flushed.

“Yeah, like that,” Bucky said, and the affection in her tone made Summer look up at him. How can the world’s most beautiful man speak of Summer so highly? She couldn’t understand that at all.

Beth returned soon after. “I brought you a nice merlot from Bordeaux, La Mondotte St. Emilion from the year 2012. It is very versatile and goes well with most foods. Shall I pour a glass for you?”

“Yes, please,” Bucky said politely. Beth proceeded to open the bottle.

“Tell me when to stop,” She instructed and started pouring. Bucky had his mostly filled while Summer decided to have a little less.

“Are you ready to order?”

Summer looked down at her menu. Ah, fuck, she hadn’t really looked at it. A foot came into contact with hers and she jolted upwards. Bucky was just smiling at her, probably seeing her worried face.

“We’ll have the steak. Well done for the both of us,” Bucky said. “For dessert, we would like to have the chocolate caramel fudge.”

Summer perked up, eyes widening. Bucky just gave a knowing look, lips twisted into a smirk. Summer didn’t know which was hotter, that look or the chocolate caramel fudge.

 _Both_ , she thought, _both, together_.

Oh, God.

“Alright.” Beth seemed to be a little upset. “It’s an honour having you serve our country, by the way, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky broke the gaze and looked up. “You’re welcome. Although I did spend most of my life fighting your country and assassinating world leaders.” He said innocently. “I’m guessing you don’t mean that part.”

Beth just stammered for a moment, clutching menu to her chest. “No, I don’t,” Beth finally said. “But still. Thank you for the things you have done for us.”

“Steve would be a better candidate to be thanked,” Bucky said but then gave a genuine smile. “Thank you, though. It’s the least I can do.”

Beth gave a curt nod then walked away.

Summer just smiled dopily at Bucky. “What?” He asked defensively.

“Nothing,” Summer whispered. “Just thinking how I managed to strike gold.”

This time, _Bucky_ blushed and Summer grinned. She was slowly getting her game back.

\---

Summer sipped the red wine. “Mm,” She said. It was sweet. “I’ve never had people buy me red wine. Usually they just buy tequila shots or a Cosmopolitan, if they’re stereotypical like that.”

Bucky looked up from his food.

“Oh. Sorry,” Summer murmured. He probably didn’t want to know what other men buy her when they were trying to get into her pants (and she into theirs too, for their wallet, that is). 

“No,” Bucky just said. “Don’t be sorry. I was just suddenly angry.”

“Why?” Summer asked hesitantly. She didn’t people when they were angry. Which was probably why she hated herself most of the time?

“About those men. Those men who used you when you were drunk.”

“I wasn’t drunk—”

“They didn’t know that,” Bucky said. “They didn’t have good intentions, Summer.”

Summer looked away. “I know, but neither did I.”

“You did what you have to do, what you could do,” Bucky corrected. “They didn’t have to _rape_ people.”

Summer cringed.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky took a step back. “I just… I just don’t like it when you defend them.”

Silence washed over them before Summer opened her mouth again, heart thudding. “It’s just… hard. To think about it, to try to comprehend it.”

“I know,” Bucky murmured. “Just know that it doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

Summer poked at her steak. It was very good and she could only imagine how much it would cost. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Bucky reached his hand out and looked at Summer expectantly. She took it. Warmth spread through her. Bucky’s eyes were a swirling blue and grey, deep and calm. “And I’ll do my best to remind you.”

\--

“You said you were born into Hydra. Who were your parents?”

Sophia hardened her eyes. The dreaded questions. “They were scientists. High-level security clearance. They were deeply rooted into the program. I was… I was conceived as part of the mission.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve heard our share of sob stories, so,” Natasha said dryly.

“I’m not trying to get pity, I’m trying to give you information,” Sophia glared. “My parents were Druyt and Odilie Kozlov.”

Natasha frowned, probably wondering where she had heard the name before. The Widows had impeccable memory so when the information clicked—

“You’re saying…”

Sophia nodded, lips in a flat line. “Summer wasn’t the only one.” 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, tell me what you think?
> 
> Okay, so, I've been having some creative blocking going on in my life, I've been kind of overwhelmed with everything about university and stuff. If you want some life updates, I will (hopefully) be posting a little bit more on my blog, which you can check out [here](http://kky-claud.blogspot.my/)
> 
> I'm already working on the next chapter, which will (fingers crossed) be out in a week. 2 weeks, max. I hope. If not, um, I apologize in advance and I'm super duper sorry. But it won't happen, I will get my life in check :)
> 
> So, I've got a cool-ish thing planned for our Asgardian beauty, and also! Have you guys watched Gifted? Man, McKenna Grace is absolutely awesome in it! And Octavia Spencer too, I loved the chemistry between the two of them. Chris was, of course, absolutely stunning. I really liked his look in the movie, and I liked the character too. 
> 
> Also, plot twist at the end, huh. I know, I know. 
> 
> Okay, so ending notes. Stay safe everybody, I am so super grateful you are reading my story. Just leave me a little kudos if you like my work, or tell me so I feel well fed by your compliments and approval :) No, really, it's always amazing to know your story, which you've worked so hard on, is appreciated. Sometimes, I get really sad thinking about why I'm writing so much for a fanfiction, like, I can never sell this, but I know it's all a learning experience, it's practice, and these material can always be recycled for my future stories. 
> 
> (but hey... if you've got cash you spare you can always pay me and I can always try to pay my beta cos she is super awesome for helping me)
> 
> Alright! That's all. Stay safe, and remember to stay healthy and always put your safety and health first, be it mental or physical health. That's always very important. Have a good one, everybody. I love you all!
> 
> If you ever need an ear, kkyclaudia@gmail.com is my email. Drop me an email, or comment, I'll for sure reply. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for taking out time to read this. I love all of you so much for just giving me a chance!
> 
> I hope you guys like this. I spent tons of time thinking up the plot. The plot will definitely thicken and I have so many amazing ideas coming up for this book. I have written the total of one fan fiction, so now two! This is my first go at writing a fan fic for this particular fandom, though, and it is also my first time posting on this website (which I find super amazing) so please be kind. Kudos and comments are great and con crit is appreciated. 
> 
> Have a good day and I wish you happiness!
> 
> Bye for now!


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